By  Constance  D'Arcy  Mackay 

BOOKS  OF  PLAYS  FOR  CHILDREN 

DESIGNED  FOR  USE  IN  THE  SCHOOLS 


Patriotic  Plays  and  Pageants 
for  Young  People 

The  one-act  plays  for  young  people 
contained  in  this  volume  can  be  produced 
separately,  or  may  be  used  as  links  in  the 
chain  of  episodes  which  go  to  make  up 
outdoor  or  indoor  pageants.  There  are 
full  directions  for  simple  costumes, 
dances,  and  music.  Each  play  deals  with 
the  youth  of  some  American  hero.  The 
plays  are  suitable  for  schools,  summer 
camps,  boys'  clubs,  historic  festivals, 
patriotic  societies,  and  social  settlements 
and  playgrounds.  $i  .35  net;  by  mail,  $1 .45. 

The  Silver  Thread  and  Other  Folk 

Plays  for  Young  People 

Simplicity  is  the  keynote  of  these  eight 
plays.  Each  has  a  footnote  on  its  origin, 
and  full  descriptions  and  directions  for 
easily  arranged  costumes  and  scene- 
settings,  especially  designed  to  fit  the 
limitations  of  the  schoolroom  stage. 
$1.10  net;  by  mail,  $1.20. 

The  House  of  the  Heart  and  Other 
Plays  for  Children 

Ten  one-act  plays  that  have  stood  the 
test  of  actual  production.  $1.10  net;  by 
mail,  $1.20. 

"An  addition  to  child  drama  which  has  been 
sorely  needed." — Boston  Transcript. 


HENRY    HOLT    AND    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW   YORK 


PATRIOTIC 
PLAYS  AND  PAGEANTS 
FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE 


BY 


CONSTANCE  D'ARCY  MACKAY 

Author  of  "  The  House  of  the  Heart  and  Other  Plays  for 

Children  "  and  ' '  The  Silver  Thread  and  Other  Folk 

Plays  for  Young  People  " 


NEW  YORK 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


Copyright,  19 12, 

BY 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


Published  March,  1912 

No  performance  of  these  plays  may  be 
given  without  full  acknowledgment  of  the 
author  and  publishers.  Acknowledgment 
should  be  made  to  read  as  follows:  "  By 
Constance  D'Arcy  Mackay;  from  Patriotic 
Plays  and  Pageants  for  Young  People;  Copy- 
right, 1912,  by  Henry  Holt  and  Company; 
Produced  by  arrangement  with  the  pub- 
lishers." 

Amateurs  may  produce  the  plays  in  this 
volume  without  charge.  Professional  actors 
must  apply  for  acting  rights  to  the  author, 
in  care  of  the  publishers. 

*.        '    *     l     if     • 

•  •   •  •*  •  1 


•      • 


«  t  »     * 


PREFACE 

The  one-act  plays  for  young  people  contained  in 
this  volume  can  be  produced  separately,  or  may  be 
used  as  links  in  the  chain  of  episodes  which  go  to  make 
up  outdoor  or  indoor  pageants.  There  are  full  direc- 
tions for  simple  costumes,  dances,  and  music.  Each 
play  deals  with  the  youth  of  some  American  hero,  so 
that  the  lad  who  plays  George  Washington  or  Ben- 
jamin Franklin  will  be  in  touch  with  the  emotions  of 
a  patriot  of  his  own  years,  instead  of  incongruously 
portraying  an  adult.  Much  of  the  dialogue  contains 
the  actual  words  of  Lincoln,  Washington,  and  Frank- 
lin, so  that  in  learning  their  lines  the  youthful  players 
may  grasp  something  of  the  hardihood  and  sagacity 
of  Washington,  the  perseverance  of  Franklin,  and  the 
honesty  and  dauntlessness  of  Lincoln,  and  of  those 
salient  virtues  that  went  to  the  up-building  of  America 
— a  heritage  from  the  time  "  when  all  the  land  was 
young.'' 

The  plays  are  suitable  for  schools,  summer  camps, 
boys'  clubs,  historic  festivals,  patriotic  societies,  and 
social  settlements  and  playgrounds.  The  outdoor  plays 
are  especially  adapted  for  a  "  Safe  and  Sane  Fourth. 
All  the  plays  have  stood  the  test  of  production. 

iii 


)> 


iv  PREFACE 

"  The  Pageant  of  Patriots  " — the  first  children's 
patriotic  pageant  ever  given  in  America — was  pro- 
duced in  Prospect  Park,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  under  the 
auspices  of  Brooklyn's  ten  Social  Settlements,  May, 
191 1.  The  Hawthorne  Pageant  was  first  produced  on 
Arbor  Day,  May,  191 1,  by  the  Wadleigh  High  School, 
New  York  City;  Pocahontas  was  given  as  a  separate 
play  at  Franklin  Park,  Boston,  by  Lincoln  House,  and 
some  of  the  other  plays  have  been  given  at  various 
schools  in  New  York  City. 

Thanks  are  due  to  The  Woman's  Home  Com- 
panion, The  Delineator,  The  Designer,  The  Normal 
Instructor,  and  The  Popular  Educator  for  their  kind 
permission  to  reprint  these  plays. 


PATRIOTIC  PLAYS  AND 
PAGEANTS 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Patriotic  Plays:  Their  Use  and  Value  ....        3 

PAGEANTS 

PAGEANTS    OF    PATRIOTISM 

The  outdoor  arrangement  can  be  produced  by  a  whole 
school  or  group  of  schools,  by  groups  of  social  settlements, 
communities,  and  cities,  in  parks,  armories,  woodland 
spaces  or  meadows  on  such  occasions  as  the  Fourth  of  July, 
Decoration  Day,  Bunker  Hill  Day,  Labor  Day,  during  Old 
Home  Week,  or  for  any  special  city  or  town  celebration. 
The  indoor  arrangement  of  the  same  pageant  is  also  suit- 
able for  whole  schools,  or  groups  of  schools,  groups  of 
settlements,  communities,  villages,  cities:  in  armories,  school 
halls,  assembly  rooms,  or  small  theaters  on  Columbus  Day, 
Lincoln's  Birthday,  Washington's  Birthday,  or  some  day  of 
special  celebration. 

Pageant  of  Patriots  (Outdoor) 7 

Prologue  by  the  Spirit  of  Patriotism     ....  9 

Princess    Pocahontas 12 

Pilgrim   Interlude 27 

Ferry   Farm  Episode 38 

George  Washington's  Fortune 46 

Daniel    Boone:   Patriot 59 

Benjamin  Franklin  Episode 74 

Abraham  Lincoln  Episode 88 

v 


VI 


CONTENTS 


Liberty  Dance 
Pageant    Directions 


Pageant  of  Patriots   (Indoor)    . 

Prologue  by  the  Spirit  of  Patriotism 
Dramatic  Silhouette:  Lords  of  the  Forest 
The  Coming  of  the  White  Man:  Tableau 
Princess  Pocahontas      .... 
Priscilla  Mullins  Spinning:  Tableau 
Benjamin   Franklin:  Journeyman 
George  Washington's  Fortune  . 
The  Boston  Tea  Party 
Dramatic  Silhouette:  The  Spirit  of  '76 
Abraham  Lincoln:  Rail-Splitter 
Directions  for  Indoor  Arrangement 

THE   HAWTHORNE   PAGEANT 

Can  be  produced  in  park  or  woodland  in  its  outdoor 
arrangement.  Is  suitable  for  co-educational  schools,  girls' 
schools,  girls'  Summer  camps.  Is  appropriate  for  Haw- 
thorne's Birthday  (July  4),  Arbor  Day,  May  Day,  or  any 
day  during  Spring  and  Summer.  In  its  indoor  form  it  can 
be  given  in  school  halls  or  in  a  small  theater.  In  this 
form  it  is  appropriate  for  co-educational  schools,  girls' 
schools,  settlements.  It  can  be  given  any  time  during  the 
Autumn,  Winter,  or  Spring. 


PAGE 
98 

99 

105 

107 
109 
no 
in 
112 
113 

131 

132 

155 
156 

173 


Hawthorne  Pageant  (For  Outdoor  or  Indoor  Produc 
tion) 

Chorus  of  Spirits  of  the  Old  Manse 
Prologue  by  the  Muse  of  Hawthorne 
In  Witchcraft  Days   (First  Episode) 

Dance    Interlude 

Merrymount  (Second  Episode)   . 
Pageant  Directions       .... 


175 
177 
178 
180 
198 
199 
220 


CONTENTS  vii 

LIST  OF  SEPARATE  ONE-ACT  PLAYS 

PAGE 

Abraham  Lincoln:  Rail-Splitter   (Indoor)    .       .       .     156 

Can  be  produced  in  school,  home,  or  small  theater.  Is 
suitable  for  schools,  settlements,  clubs,  patriotic  societies, 
and  debating  societies.  Can  be  appropriately  produced  any 
time  between  September  and  March.  Is  especially  appro- 
priate for  Lincoln's  Birthday. 

Benjamin  Franklin:  Journeyman  (Indoor)   .       .       .     113 

Can  be  produced  in  a  school,  home,  or  small  theater.  Is 
suitable  for  schools,  clubs,  settlements,  patriotic  societies 
and  clubs.  Can  appropriately  be  produced  any  time  between 
September  and  June.  Is  particularly  suited  to  Franklin's 
Birthday. 

The  Boston  Tea  Party  (Indoor) 132 

Can  be  produced  in  school,  home,  or  small  theater.  Is 
suitable  for  boys'  schools,  Boy  Scouts,  settlements,  clubs,  and 
patriotic  societies.  Can  be  produced  on  any  holiday.  Is 
particularly  appropriate  for  Fall  and  Winter  months — espe- 
cially the  month  of  December. 

Daniel  Boone:  Patriot   (Outdoor) 59 

Can  be  produced  in  park,  woodland,  or  village  green. 
Can  be  given  by  boys'  schools,  clubs,  settlements,  and  pa- 
triotic societies.  Also  by  the  "  Sons  of  Daniel  Boone  "  and 
the  Boy  Scouts.  Is  appropriate  for  any  day  during  Spring, 
Summer,  or  Autumn.     Can  be  given  on  the  Fourth  of  July. 

George  Washington's  Fortune  (Outdoor)  ...  46 
Can  be  produced  in  park,  lawn,  or  woodland.  Is  suitable 
for  schools,  clubs,  patriotic  societies,  and  settlements.  Is 
appropriate  for  any  day  during  Spring,  Summer,  or  Autumn, 
and  is  particularly  appropriate  for  the  Fourth  of  July.  An 
indoor  arrangement  can  easily  be  made  for  George  Wash- 
ington's Birthday. 


viii  CONTENTS 

FAGE 

In  Witchcraft  Days  (Outdoor)         .      -.,      ..,      ..      .180 

Can  be  given  in  park,  lawn,  or  village  green  or  wood- 
land. Suitable  for  co-educational  schools,  girls'  schools, 
girls'  Summer  camps,  patriotic  societies,  settlements,  and 
clubs.  Appropriate  for  Arbor  Day,  May  Day,  or  any  day 
during  Spring,  Summer,  or  early  Autumn.  An  indoor  ar- 
rangement can  be  given  for  Thanksgiving  in  school  halls. 

Merrymount    (Outdoor) 199 

Can  be  produced  in  park  or  woodland.  Is  suitable  for 
co-educational  schools,  girls'  schools,  girls'  Summer  camps, 
and  for  clubs,  settlements,  and  patriotic  societies.  Is  appro- 
priate for  Arbor  Day,  May  Day,  or  any  day  in  Spring  and 
Summer.    An  indoor  version  of  it  can  also  be  given. 

Princess  Pocahontas  (Outdoor) 12 

Can  be  given  in  park,  in  woodland,  or  on  lawn.  Is  suit- 
able for  schools,  clubs,  and  patriotic  societies.  Can  be  given 
on  the  Fourth  of  July,  or  any  day  during  Spring  and  Summer. 
Indoor  production  is  also  possible. 


,     .  •„   > 


«.         '    »     '  )     I    ,  » 


* 
1  ,.  ■  -     .  *  . 


•  -  I       ,  '     .     '  - 


»     - 


PATRIOTIC  PLAYS:  THEIR  USE 

AND  VALUE 

The  primary  value  of  the  patriotic  play  lies  in  its 
appeal  to  the  love  of  country,  and  its  power  to  re- 
vitalize the  past.  The  Youth  of  To-Day  is  put  in 
touch  with  the  Patriots  of  Yesterday.  Historic  per- 
sonages become  actual,  vivid  figures.  The  costumes, 
speech,  manners,  and  ideas  of  bygone  days  take  on 
new  significance.  The  life  of  trail  and  wigwam,  of 
colonial  homestead  and  pioneer  camp,  is  made  tangible 
and  realistic.  And  the  spirit  of  those  days — the  in- 
tegrity, courage,  and  vigor  of  the  Nation's  heroes, 
their  meager  opportunities,  their  struggle  against  des- 
perate odds,  their  slow  yet  triumphant  upward  climb — 
can  be  illumined  by  the  acted  word  as  in  no  other  way. 
To  read  of  the  home  life  of  America's  beginnings  is 
one  thing;  to  portray  it  or  see  it  portrayed  is  another. 
And  of  the  two  experiences  the  latter  is  the  less  likely 
to  be  forgotten.  To  the  youthful  participants  in  a 
scene  which  centers  about  the  campfire,  the  tavern 
table,  or  the  Puritan  hearthstone  will  come  an  inti- 
mate knowledge  of  the  folk  they  represent:  they  will 
find  the  old  sayings  and  maxims  of  the  Nation-Builders 
as  pungent  and  applicable  to  the  life  of  to-day  as  when 
they  were  first  spoken. 

3 


4  PATRIOTIC  PLAYS 

The  -j>atriotie,p>ay<  jias:  manifold  uses.  It  combines 
both .  pleasure,  and  education.  It  is  both  stimulating 
attci  instructive/  ;  In  its  '  ind'oor  form  it  may  be  the 
basis  of  a  winter  afternoon's  or  evening's  entertain- 
ment, in  its  outdoor  form  it  may  take  whole  communi- 
ties and  schools  into  the  freedom  of  the  open.  It 
should  rouse  patriotic  ardor,  and  be  of  benefit  ethically, 
esthetically,  and  physically.  It  should  wake  in  its 
participants  a  sense  of  rhythm,  freedom,  poise,  and 
plastic  grace.  It  should  bear  its  part  in  developing 
clear  enunciation  and  erectness  of  carriage.  To  those 
taking  part  it  should  bring  the  exercise  of  memory,  pa- 
tience, and  inventiveness.  It  should  kindle  enthusiasm 
for  the  things  of  America's  past.  In  what  way  can 
national  hero-days  and  festivals  be  more  fittingly  com- 
memorated than  by  giving  a  glimpse  of  the  hero  for 
whom  the  day  is  named?  Thus  the  patriotic  play  is 
equally  adaptable  for  Fourth  of  July,  Washington's 
Birthday,  Lincoln's  Birthday,  Columbus  Day,  and  the 
hundreds  of  other  days — not  holidays — that  lie  in  be- 
tween. 

If  the  patriotic  play  is  produced  in  the  right  way 
it  should  contain  the  very  essence  of  democracy — 
efficient  team-work,  a  striving  together  for  the  good 
of  the  whole.  It  should  lead  to  the  ransacking  of 
books  and  libraries;  the  planning  of  scene-setting, 
whether  indoor  or  outdoor;  the  fashioning  of  simple 
and  accurate  costumes  by  the  young  people  taking  part ; 
the  collecting  of  suitable  stage  properties  such  as 
hearthbrooms,  Indian  pipes,  and  dishes  of  pewter.    The 


PATRIOTIC  PLAYS  5 

greater  the  research,  the  keener  the  stimulus  for  imagi- 
nation and  ingenuity,  two  things  that  go  to  the  mak- 
ing of  every  successful  production.  Fortunately,  the 
patriotic  play  is  inherently  simple,  its  appeal  is  along 
broad  general  lines,  so  that  it  requires  no  great  amount 
of  money  or  energy  to  adequately  produce  it.  And,  as 
history  is  made  up  not  of  one  event,  but  of  a  series 
of  events,  so  an  historical  pageant  is  a  logical  sequence 
of  one-act  patriotic  plays  or  episodes.  The  one-act 
patriotic  play  shows  one  hero  or  one  event ;  the  pageant 
shows,  through  one-act  plays  used  in  chronological 
order,  the  development  and  upbuilding  of  America 
through  the  lives  of  her  heroes. 

In  its  pageant  form,  the  patriotic  play,  with  dances, 
songs,  pantomime,  and  spoken  speech,  lends  itself  to 
schools,  communities,  and  city  use,  in  park,  in  armory, 
and  on  village  green:  in  its  one-act  form  it  lends 
itself  to  both  indoor  and  outdoor  production  by 
schools,  patriotic  societies,  clubs  and  settlements,  and, 
last,  but  not  least,  the  home  circle.  And  in  the  hope 
of  assisting  teachers  and  producers  to 'fit  appropriate 
plays  to  appropriate  occasions  notes  on  the  subject 
have  been  added  to  the  individual  plays  in  the  table 
of  contents. 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

(Outdoor) 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

EPISODES 

i.  Prologue  by  the  Spirit  of  Patriotism 

2.  Princess  Pocahontas 

3.  Pilgrim  Interlude 

4.  Ferry  Farm  Episode 

5.  George  Washington's   Fortune 

6.  Daniel  Boone:  Patriot 

7.  Benjamin   Franklin   Episode 

Scene  1.  Benjamin  Franklin  and  the  Crystal 

Gazer   (1720) 

The  Dream  Begins 

Scene  2.  Benjamin  Franklin  at  the  Court  of 

France   ( 1781 ) 

The  Dream  Ends 

8.  Abraham  Lincoln   Episode 

9.  Final   Tableau 
10.  March  of  Players 


PROLOGUE 

9 

Spoken  by  The  Spirit  of  Patriotism 

People  of  ,  ye  who  come  to  see 

Enacted  here  some  hours  of  Pageantry, 

Lend  us  your  patience  for  each  simple  truth, 

And  see  portrayed  for  you  the  Nation's  Youth. 

Spirit  of  Patriotism  I.     Behold 

How  at  my  word  time's  curtain  is  uprolled, 

And  all  the  past  years  live,  unvanquished 

As  are  the  laurels  of  the  mighty  dead. 

I  am  the  spirit  of  the  hearth  and  home! 

For  me  are  flags  unfurled  and  bugles  blown. 

For  me  have  countless  thousands  fought  and  died; 

For  me  the  name  of  "  Liberty  "  is  cried ! 

I  am  the  leader  where  the  battle  swings, 

I  bring  the  memory  of  all  high  things. 

And  so  to-day  I  come  to  bid  you  look 

At  scenes  deep-written  in  the  Nation's  book. 

The  youth  of  all  the  heroes  you  shall  see — 

What  lads  they  were,  what  men  they  grew  to  be. 

How  honor,  thrift,  and  courage  made  them  rise 

By  steps  that  you  can  learn  if  you  be  wise. 

9 


io         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

First,  Pocahontas  in  a  woodland  green  ; 

Then  life  among  the  Pilgrim  folk  is  seen — 

Thrifty  Priscilla,  Maid  o'  Plymouth  Town, 

In  Puritanic  cap  and  somber  gown! 

For  the  next  scene  comes  life  in  Southern  climes — 

The  Ferry  Farm  of  past  Colonial  times. 

Then  Washington  encamped  before  a  blaze 

O'  fagots,  swiftly  learning  woodland  ways. 

Then  Boone  with  Rigdon  in  the  wilderness 

Dauntlessly  facing  times  of  strife  and  stress. 

Crossing  the  Common  in  the  morning  sun 

Young  Benjamin  Franklin  comes:  about  him  hung 

Symbols  of  trade  and  hope — kite,  candles,  book. 

The  crystal  gazer  enters,  bids  him  look 

At  all  the  guerdon  that  the  years  will  bring. 

The  Vision  next:  Trianon  in  the  Spring, 

And  Franklin  honored  by  the  Queen  of  France 

With  courtly  minuet  and  festal  dance. 

Lastly,  a  cabin  clearing  in  the  West, 

Where  on  a  holiday  with  mirth  and  zest 

Lincoln's  companions  take  their  simple  cheer. 

These  are  the  scenes  to  be  enacted  here, 

Shown  to  you  straightway  in  a  simple  guise. 

Youthful  the  scenes  that  we  shall  here  devise 

On  which  the  beads  of  history  are  strung. 

Remember  that  our  players,  too,  are  young. 

All  critic-knowledge,  then,  behind  you  leave, 

And  in  the  spirit  of  the  day  receive 

What  we  would  give,  and  let  there  come  to  you 

The  Joy  of  Youth,  with  purpose  high  and  true. 


1    I 


PROLOGUE  1 1 

COSTUME 

The  Spirit  of  Patriotism.  The  Spirit  of  Pa- 
triotism should  wear  a  long  white  robe,  with  flowing 
Grecian  lines,  made  either  of  white  cheesecloth,  or 
white  cashmere.  It  should  fall  from  a  rounded  neck. 
Hair  worn  flowing,  and  chapleted  with  a  circlet  of 
gold  stars.  White  stockings  and  sandals.  Carries  a 
staff  from  which  floats  the  Stars  and  Stripes. 


«       •  «    e 


PRINCESS   POCAHONTAS 

CHARACTERS 

Princess  Pocahontas 

Chief  Powhatan 

Captain  John  Smith 

Eight  Young  Indian  Braves 

Eight  Young  Indian  Maidens 

Two   Indian  Women 

Two  old  and  withered  Squaws 

Six  or  seven  little  Indian  children. 

Other  followers  of  Powhatan 
Time:   Mid-afternoon   on  a  mild  day   in    i6og. 
Place:  Virginia. 

Scene:  An  open  glade  showing  a  small  Indian  en- 
campment. 

At  the  opening  of  the  scene  the  glade  is  deserted, 
the  men  of  the  tribe  being  engaged  in  a  skirmish  with 
the  white  men,  while  the  women  and  children  have 
gone  foraging.  There  are  two  teepees,  one  at  right, 
and  one  at  left,  their  doors  closed.  By  the  side  of 
teepee  at  left  a  pile  of  fagots,  and  a  wooden  block. 

Further  front,  facing  audience,  a  great  war-drum, 
gaily  painted.     A  skin-covered  drum-stick.     At  right, 

12 


PRINCESS  POCAHONTAS  13 

towards  front,  the  smoldering  remains  of  a  fire. 
The  ivhole  appearance  of  the  camp  shows  that  it  is 
not  permanent — a  mere  pausing-place. 

The  space  between  the  teepees  is  absolutely  unob- 
structed, but  there  are  trees  and  bushes  at  the  back  and 
sides. 

By  degrees  the  Indians  who  have  been  foraging  be- 
gin to  return.  One  of  the  Indian  women  enters 
carrying  fagots.  One  of  the  older  squaws  rekindles 
the  fire.  Next  come  the  children,  with  merry  shouts, 
carrying  their  little  bows  and  arrows.  The  Indian 
maidens  enter  gaily,  carrying  reeds  for  weaving.  They 
move  silently,  swiftly,  gracefully.  Two  of  their  num- 
ber begin  to  grind  maize  between  stones.  Two  others 
plait  baskets.  An  old  medicine-man,  with  a  bag  of 
herbs,  comes  from  the  background,  and  seats  himself 
near  the  drum,  at  left,  taking  an  Indian  flute  from  his 
deerskin  belt,  and  fingering  it  lovingly.  An  Indian 
woman,  arriving  later  than  the  others,  unstraps  from 
her  back  a  small  papoose,  and  hangs  it  to  the  limb  of 
a  tree.  The  Indian  children  stand  towards  the  front 
of  the  greensward,  shoot  in  a  line  their  feathered 
arrows,  run  and  pick  up  the  arrows,  and  acclaim  in 
pantomime  the  one  who  shot  the  best.  Then  they  go 
towards  background,  doing  a  childish  imitation  of  a 
war-dance.  The  mother  of  the  papoose,  having  fin- 
ished her  duties  in  setting  one  of  the  teepees  to  rights, 
now  takes  down  the  papoose  from  the  tree  where  it 
swings,  and  seating  herself  in  the  center  of  the  green- 
sward, croons  an  Indian  lullaby.     The  Indian  maidens 


i4         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

group  themselves  about  her,  seated  in  a  semicircle  on 
the  ground,  swaying  rhythmically.  At  the  back  of  the 
stage  one  of  the  little  Indian  boys  sees  an  Indian 
maiden  approaching,  clad  in  white  doeskin.  Cries 
aloud  delightedly :  "  Pocahontas!  " 

The  Indian  maidens  and  the  squaws  rise  and  fall 
back  before  the  entrance  of  Pocahontas  with  gestures  of 
salutation  and  respect. 

All 

(clearly  and  enthusiastically), 

Pocahontas ! 

[Pocahontas  comes  down  center  with  a  basket 
filled  with  branches  that  bear  small  red  ber- 
ries. The  children  and  two  of  the  maidens 
gather  about  her,  and  then  fall  back  as  she 
begins  speaking,  so  that  she  has  the  center  of 
the  stage.  Greatest  interest  is  evinced  in  all 
she  does. 

Pocahontas 

(speaking  slowly,  as  one  does  in  an  unfamiliar  tongue, 
yet  clearly  and  deliberately). 

I — Pocahontas — daughter  of  Powhatan,  great  chief, 
— speak — language  of — paleface.  Powhatan  teach  me. 
(Points  to  way  from  which  she  has  come.)  Yonder — 
I — went.     Prayed  to  River  God. 

[Makes  gesture  of  worship,  raising  basket  above 
her  head.     The  semicircle  about  her  widens 


PRINCESS  POCAHONTAS  15 

respectfully.  A  maiden  then  approaches  and 
takes  basket.  Pocahontas  smiles  in  sudden 
childlike  delight,  and  holding  out  chain  of 
beads  that  fall  from  her  neck  to  her  waist, 
says  with  pretty  intonation: 

Beads.     Jamestown. 

[Watches  them  for  a  moment  as  they  glimmer 
in  the  sun.  Then  with  sudden  laugh  seizes 
the  Indian  maiden  nearest  her,  and  by  gesture 
summons  the  other  Indian  maidens.  One  of 
the  very  old  squaws  with  a  half-wry,  half- 
kindly  smile  begins  a  swift  tapping  on  the 
drum  that  has  in  it  the  rhythm  of  dance 
music.  The  Indian  children  withdraw  to 
the  doors  of  the  teepees,  and  Pocahontas  and 
the  Indian  maidens  dance.  The  old  medi- 
cine-man adds  his  flute-notes  to  the  rhythm  of 
the  war-drum. 

The  Indians  being  a  notably  silent  people,  this 
scene  must  be  given  mostly  in  pantomime. 

From  the  forest  at  right  comes  the  faint  sound 
of  a  crackling  branch.  Instant  attention  on 
the  part  of  all.  The  dance  stops.  The  In- 
dian maidens  stand  poised,  listening.  The 
women  shade  their  eyes  with  their  hands.  A 
small  Indian  boy  lays  his  ear  to  the  ground, 
and  then  cries:  "Powhatan!'  Two  ex- 
pectant semicircles  are  formed.     All  look  to- 


16         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

wards  right.  Powhatan  enters.  Pocahontas 
runs  to  meet  him.  Tableau. 
Powhatan  then  indicates  that  others  are  coming 
from  right.  Young  braves  enter  with  John 
Smith  in  their  midst.  His  hands  are  bound 
behind  him,  his  face  is  white  and  drawn. 
Children  at  sight  of  him  scamper  to  teepees. 
The  rest  show  signs  of  curiosity.  Pocahontas 
stands  with  clasped  hands  and  startled  eyes, 

m 

regarding  Smith  most  earnestly.  A  brave 
bears  Smith's  weapons.  Smith  is  led  to  right 
foreground.  Block  of  wood  is  brought  him 
for  a  seat. 

The  Indian  women,  maidens,  and  children  re- 
treat to  the  extreme  background,  where  they 
sit  in  a  semicircle,  watching.  Then  Pow- 
hatan and  braves  withdraw  to  left,  where 
they  form  a  circle  and  confer,  one  brave  at 
at  a  time  addressing  the  rest  in  pantomime, 
with  many  gestures,  some  towards  Smith, 
some  towards  the  path  by  which  they  brought 
him.  Occasionally  the  words  "  Algonquin," 
"  Chickahominy,"  "  Jamestown,"  "  Opeckan- 
kano,"  "  Washunsunakok "  are  spoken. 
When  Powhatan  speaks  in  pantomime  the 
others  listen  with  occasional  grunts  of  satis- 
faction and  approval.  It  is  evident  that  the 
prisoner  and  the  fate  awaiting  him  are  under 
discussion. 

Pocahontas   alone   remains  near   the    center   of 


PRINCESS  POCAHONTAS  17 

interest.  She  glances  first  at  her  father  and 
the  braves,  sees  they  are  deep  in  discussion, 
and  then  crosses  to  John  Smith,  with  every 
sign  of  interest  and  awakening  pity.  She 
brings  him  water  in  a  wooden  bowl.  He 
drinks  thirstily.  She  then  goes  to  one  of  the 
teepees,  and  brings  him  a  cup  of  milk.  This 
she  holds  for  him  to  drink  from,  as  his  hands 
are  bound. 

Pocahontas 

(gravely,  as  she  puts  down  the  cup). 

How! 

Smith 

(with  equal  gravity). 
How! 

Pocahontas 

(touching  herself  lightly). 
Pocahontas.     Daughter  of  Powhatan. 

[Touches  Smith  questioningly. 

Smith 
(answering  her). 
Smith.     John  Smith. 

Pocahontas 

(repeating  it  after  him). 
John    Smith. 

Smith. 
From  Jamestown. 


18         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Pocahontas 
(nods,  says  slowly). 
Pocahontas  likes  paleface. 

[Meantime  the  pantomimic  discussion  held  by 
Powhatan  and  his  braves  is  drawing  near  its 
close.  There  comes  a  shout  of  triumphant 
acclaim  "  Wah!  Wahl  Wall!'  hoarse  and 
loud.  Powhatan,  having  in  pantomime  ren- 
dered his  decision,  now  stands  with  arms 
folded,  at  left.  Braves  to  right,  and  take 
Smith  to  center.  Powhatan  stands  at  the 
extreme  left.  The  braves  form  a  semicircle 
about  Smith.  The  women  and  children  in 
the  background  rise  silently,  and  peer  for- 
ward. Smith  is  forced  to  one  knee.  A  brave 
holds  aloft  the  hatchet. 

Pocahontas 

(looking  from  Smith  to  her  father,  and  then  running 
towards  the  latter  with  a  cry). 

No!  No! 

[Powhatan  regards  his  daughter  gravely,  yet  un- 
relentingly. Pocahontas,  center,  stretches  out 
her  arms  in  pleading.  Powhatan  shakes  his 
head.  Pocahontas  then  goes  towards  Smith, 
and  again  with  animated  pantomime,  indicat- 
ing first  Smith  and  then  the  way  by  which 
he    has    come,    pleads    for    him.     Powhatan 


PRINCESS  POCAHONTAS  19 

shakes  his  head.  He  is  obdurate.  Pocahon- 
tas bows  her  head  dejectedly.  Turns  to  go 
back  to  where  she  has  been  standing.  Then 
changes  her  mind,  runs  to  her  father,  and 
with  every  evidence  of  pleading  and  humility, 
falls  on  her  knees  before  him,  arms  out- 
stretched. For  a  moment  they  are  still  as 
statues.  Then  Pocahontas  takes  from  her 
neck  her  string  of  beads,  and,  by  gesture, 
offers  it  as  a  ransom  for  Smith. 

Pocahontas 

(speaking  slowly). 

Pocahontas,  daughter  of  Great  Chief,  asks  of  Great 
Chief  John  Smith's  life. 

[Tense  pause.  Powhatan,  with  arms  folded, 
considers  deeply.  Then  makes  sign  of  assent, 
but  gives  back  necklace  to  Pocahontas,  who 
rises  ivith  pantomime  of  joy.  Powhatan  makes 
sign  to  braves  to  release  Smith.  Smith  is  un- 
bound. His  weapons  are  given  back  to  him. 
He  chafes  his  wrists  and  presents  his  compass 
to  Powhatan. 

Smith. 

Great  Chief!  (Turns  first  to  Powhatan,  and  then 
to  Pocahontas.)  Great  Princess!  John  Smith  grate- 
ful! 

[Powhatan  touches  him  on  shoulder. 


20         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Powhatan 
Umph!  (grunting). 

[Indicates  by  gesture  peace-pipe  which  has  been 
lit  at  fire.  All  braves  sit  in  semicircle  facing 
audience,  and  pass  it  (not  too  slowly!)  from 
one  to  another,  including  Smith  and  Pow- 
hatan.    Then  all  rise. 

Smith 

(standing  center). 

John  Smith  goes  to  Jamestown.  John  Smith  friend 
of  great  chief,  Powhatan.  Palefaces  always  remember 
Powhatan!    Always  remember  Pocahontas! 

Braves 

(all  together). 

Wah!  Wah!  Wah! 

[Exit  Smith,  right.  Smith  is  watched  by  the 
Indians  in  silence  deep  and  respectful. 

Pocahontas 

(to  Powhatan). 

Great  Chief  safely  returned.  Captive  set  free.  Shall 
we  go  yonder?     (Points.)     Pray  to  River  God? 

[Powhatan  nods  gravely.  He  and  Pocahontas 
exeunt  left.  The  braves  follow  next.  The 
Indian  maidens,  women,  and  children  form 
the  end  of  the  procession.  The  stage  is  thus 
left  empty,  and  the  scene  ends. 


PRINCESS  POCAHONTAS  21 

COSTUMES 

Pocahontas.  Pocahontas  should  wear  the  tradi- 
tional costume  of  "  white  doeskin  with  a  scarlet  mantle 
flecked  with  gold  sequins."  A  great  chain  of  pearls 
should  be  about  her  neck.  Another  chain  which  reaches 
to  her  waist  should  be  of  white  and  blue  beads — large 
beads  that  will  catch  glitter  from  the  sun.  About  her 
head  a  band  of  tan,  and  a  white  quill.  The  embroidery 
about  the  neck  of  her  Indian  robe  is  of  pearls.  The 
basket  which  she  carries  should  be  white,  with  a  motif 
of  rich  blue  and  scarlet.  She  wears  a  tan  (dressed  deer- 
skin) girdle,  heavily  embroidered  in  red  beads.  Her 
stockings  and  moccasins  are  tan-colored  also,  the  moc- 
casins embroidered  in  scarlet.  The  ends  of  her  braids 
are  bound  in  scarlet  and  gold.  White  canton  flannel, 
skilfully  slashed  for  fringing,  will  make  the  Indian 
dress,  which  should  fall  in  straight  lines  from  a  square 
neck.  It  should  reach  to  about  three  inches  above  the 
ankle,  and  should  be  heavily  fringed.  The  robe,  worn 
fastened  at  the  shoulders,  should  be  of  scarlet  cloth. 
The  deerskin  belt  is  of  cotton  khaki.  The  moccasins 
can  be  made  of  the  same  material,  cut  sandal  fashion. 
Or  low  canvas  ties  without  heels,  bead-embroidered. 

Captain  John  Smith.  Tan-colored  costume  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  The  coat  of  tattered,  weather- 
stained  brown  velvet,  the  puffed  sleeves  slashed  with 
tan  satin  that  is  soiled  and  frayed.  Great  tan  boots 
coming  to  the  knee.  A  white  lace  collar  at  neck,  much 
the  worse  for  wear.    A  brown  leather  girdle. 


22         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Powhatan.  Indian  dress  of  tan  (dressed  deerskin), 
the  neck  and  breast  of  it  gorgeously  painted  with  blue, 
green,  and  scarlet.  Great  chains  of  shells  and  beads. 
A  huge  head-dress  of  black  feathers  that  hangs  down 
his  back  almost  to  his  knees.  It  should  be  the  largest 
and  most  magnificent  of  all  the  Indian  head-dresses, 
as  it  is  the  insignia  of  chiefdom.  Tan  stockings  and 
tan  moccasins.  The  material  of  his  costume  may  be 
cotton  khaki.  (The  imitation  khaki  is  best,  as  the  real 
material  is  too  heavy.) 

The  Medicine-Man.  The  medicine-man  is  old. 
He  wears  a  wig  of  long,  white,  coarse  hair.  His  cos- 
tume is  of  cotton  khaki,  decorated  with  beads,  bits  of 
looking-glass,  and  feathers.  He  wears  no  feathers  on 
his  head.  A  piece  of  fur  is  fastened  to  his  shoulders. 
His  blanket  is  black,  with  white  cabalistic  signs.  It 
can  be  made  of  canton  flannel. 

Indian  Braves.  The  braves  who  follow  Powhatan 
should  wear  costumes  resembling  those  of  the  chief,  save 
that  they  are  less  gorgeously  painted,  and  wear  fewer 
strings  of  beads  and  shells.  Their  head-dresses,  too, 
are  shorter.  They  should  be  of  gray,  black,  and  brown 
feathers.  Their  faces  are,  of  course,  stained  brown, 
their  arms  and  necks  likewise.  Red  and  black  war- 
paint should  also  be  on  their  faces.  Unless  wigs  of 
long  hair  are  to  be  worn,  the  boys  wearing  the  feathered 
head-dresses  should  be  careful  to  see  that  their  lack  of 
long  hair  is  concealed  from  view.  Often  the  Indian 
braves  wore  their  long  matted  locks  braided ;  and  black 
cheesecloth  cut  into  strips  and  then  braided  and  fastened 


PRINCESS  POCAHONTAS  22 

to  a  tight  black  cap  will  make  a  splendid  wig  of  this 
sort — the  braids  of  hair  should  hang  in  front  of  the 
ears.  The  Indian  braves  should  carry  bows,  arrows, 
and  tomahawks. 

The  Indian  Maidens.  The  Indian  maidens 
should  wear  tan  fringed  dresses,  of  the  same  length 
and  fashion  as  that  of  Pocahontas.  Necklaces  and 
bracelets  of  shells.  The  necks  of  the  dresses  em- 
broidered in  beads  and  shells.  They  wear  their  long 
black  hair  in  two  braids,  the  ends  of  the  braids  bound 
either  with  scarlet,  corn-yellow,  or  vivid  blue.  They 
have  moccasins  and  tan-colored  stockings.  Their  bead- 
embroidered  footgear  should  be  in  striking  color  on  a 
tan  background.  But  their  chief  glory  is  their  blankets. 
These  should  be  barbarically  glowing,  since  it  is  partly 
in  their  wild  flare  of  color  that  the  beauty  of  the 
Blanket  Dance  lies.  The  following  designs  for  them 
are  taken  from  the  Indian  motifs  and  colorings  studied 
from  the  collections  in  various  museums  of  natural 
history,  and  however  startling  they  may  seem  at  first, 
their  color-scheme  should  be  faithfully  carried  out,  as 
much  of  the  success  of  the  scene  depends  on  them.  The 
material  used  may  be  canton  flannel  throughout.  They 
should  be  the  size  of  the  average,  every-day  blanket. 

i.  Blanket  made  of  equal  halves  of  deep  royal  pur- 
ple and  pale  turquoise  blue. 

2.  Blanket  of  deep  cobalt  blue.  Fastened  in  the 
center  a  great  oval  of  orange. 

3.  Blanket  made  of  equal  halves  of  pale  lemon  and 
black. 


24         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

4.  Blanket  made  of  equal  halves  of  very  dark  green 
and  very  pale  green. 

5.  Blanket  made  of  equal  halves  of  deep  violet  and 
white. 

6.  White  blanket  with  disks  of  scarlet  at  each  of  its 
four  corners. 

7.  Blanket  of  equal  halves  of  royal  purple  and  pale 
lavender. 

8.  Blanket  of  very  pale  green,  with  large  white  disk 
in  center. 

Each  Indian  maiden  should  wear  a  band  of  gay- 
colored  cheesecloth,  red,  green,  or  blue,  bound  about 
her  forehead.  This  band  should  match  the  color  that 
fastens  her  braids.  In  the  back  of  the  head-band  should 
be  fastened  a  quill  of  contrasting  shade.  It  need  hardly 
be  added  that  the  Indian  maidens  wear  neither  feather 
head-dresses  nor  war-paint.  Their  arms,  necks,  and 
faces  should  be  stained  light  brown.  The  tan-colored 
stockings  are  to  simulate  bare  skin. 

Squaws.  The  squaws  wear  the  same  cotton  khaki 
costumes  as  the  Indian  maidens,  save  that  their  blankets 
are  of  more  somber  colors,  and  their  headgear  is  either 
omitted  altogether,  or  consists  of  black,  bronze,  or  dull 
green. 

The  Little  Indian  Boys.  They  should  dress  in 
exact  imitation  of  the  older  braves,  save  that  they  wear 
no  war-paint. 

Properties.  For  either  an  indoor  or  outdoor  repre- 
sentation of  this  scene  where  it  is  impossible  to  have 
a  real  fire,  have  a  pile  of  fagots  and  amongst  them 


PRINCESS  POCAHONTAS  25 

place  large  bunches  of  joss-sticks  bound  together  with 
thread.  These  will  burn  easily  and  safely,  and  the 
blue  smoke  from  them  will  simulate  a  waft  from  wood- 
land embers. 

The  log  can  be  made  of  two  small  vinegar  barrels 
fastened  together,  covered  with  brown  burlap,  and  then 
flecked  with  green  and  brown  paint.  The  teepees  should 
be  of  canvas,  unbleached  cotton,  or  burlap  fastened 
over  three  slender,  strong  poles,  stuck  into  the  ground. 
They  should  be  equal  to  bearing  the  weight  of  the  can- 
vas or  burlap,  and  yet  light  enough  to  be  removed  and 
carried  off  the  scene  by  the  young  Indian  braves  as  they 
leave  in  the  direction  of  the  river  when  the  scene  ends. 

Dances.  At  the  place  indicated  in  the  scene,  the 
Indian  maidens  give  one  or  more  characteristic  Indian 
dances.  "  The  Blanket  Dance,"  one  of  the  most  widely 
known  and  picturesque  of  the  Indian  dances,  follows 
somewhat  the  lines  of  a  Virginia  Reel.  The  Indian 
maidens  stand  in  a  line  facing  each  other,  their  blankets 
wrapped  about  them.  The  head  couple,  facing  each 
other,  spread  wide  their  blankets  behind  them  like  great 
butterfly  wings.  Then  they  dance  forward  and  back, 
forward  and  back,  beckoning,  retreating,  gesturing,  and 
finally  dance  off,  with  one  blanket  wrapped  about  two 
pairs  of  shoulders.  Then  the  next  couple,  and  so  on. 
All  sorts  of  fantastic  steps,  gestures,  bendings,  and 
swayings  can  be  introduced.  A  wide  space  should  be 
left  between  the  dancers,  so  that  all  they  do  can  be 
clearly  seen.  Dancing  in  great  circles,  like  a  mild  war- 
dance,  yet  without  the  whoops  and  wild  gestures  of  the 


26        THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

latter,  is  another  form  that  lends  itself  to  the  out-of- 
doors.  Another  dance  is  the  Eagle  Dance;  with  arms 
spread  wide,  holding  their  blankets  at  wing-like  angles, 
the  dancers  circle  about  each  other,  the  dance  growing 
wilder  and  wilder.  Still  another  dance  is  the  sym- 
bolical one  of  the  Four  Winds — North,  South,  East, 
West — done  by  four  Indian  maidens.  The  South 
Wind  gentle  and  swaying;  the  West  Wind  fantastic, 
with  arms  upraised ;  the  East  Wind  with  streaming  hair 
and  rain-drops  shining  on  finger  tips;  the  North  Wind 
wilder  than  them  all,  and  finally  driving  them  all  be- 
fore her. 

Music.  Piano:  MacDowell's  "An  Indian  Idyl," 
"  From  an  Indian  Lodge."  These  can  be  had  orches- 
trated. For  a  band:  "  Tomahawk  Dance,"  by  Andrew 
Herman.  "  Indian  War  Dance,"  by  Bellstedt.  "  The 
Sun  Dance,"  by  Leo  Friedman. 


PILGRIM  INTERLUDE 


PILGRIM  CHANT 

(Tune:  Oxford.     To  be  sung  off  stage  by  the  Puritan 
.  maidens   before   they    enter   to    take   part   in    the 
episode.) 

Gone  is  now  the  sullen  winter, 
Gone  the  famine  and  the  snow; 

In  the  forest,  like  a  promise, 

See  the  first  white  mayflowers  blow. 

Fresh  hope  thrills  us  with  their  coming, 
They,  too,  braved  the  winter  long; 

Then  at  Springtime  took  new  leafage, 
Frail  yet  steadfast,  small  but  strong. 

Cling  we  thus  to  our  new  country, 

Let  us  struggle  and  endure ; 
We  have  found  a  land  of  Freedom, 

And  our  heritage  is  sure. 

27 


^Youthful  Pilgrim  Maidens 


28         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 
THE  SPINNING  LESSON 

(A  Pilgrim  Interlude) 
CHARACTERS 

Priscilla  Mullins 

John  Billington  ) 

Degory  Martin    \ Lads  of  Ply™™th  Town 

Ruth 

Patience 

Diantha 

Miriam 

Lettice 

Anne 

Star-of-Spring,  an  Indian  maiden 

Natiqua,  a  squaw,  her  mother 

Forest  Flower,  another  Indian  maiden 

Heron's  Wing,  a  young  Indian  brave 

Scene:  A  grassy  glade  at  Plymouth  in  the  Spring 
of  1 62 1.  Trees  right,  left,  and  background.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  scene  the  grassy  stage  is  deserted. 
There  presently  enters  from  background  Anne,  a  young 
Pilgrim  maid  of  about  fourteen,  whose  somber  garb 
shows  out  darkly  against  the  green  background.  She 
looks  quickly  about  her,  right  and  left,  shielding  her 
eyes  with  her  hand.  Then  she  calls  back  over  her 
shoulder  to  her  companions,  Diantha  and  Lettice. 


PILGRIM  INTERLUDE  29 

Anne 

(calling). 

Come  quickly,  Diantha.     Here  is  a  fair  spot  for  our 
corn-shelling,  and  not  a  prowling  Indian  in  sight. 

[Diantha,  slender,  dark,  and  somewhat  older 
than  Anne,  enters  with  Lettice.  They  carry 
between  them  an  Indian  basket  of  capacious 
size,  in  which  are  dried  ears  of  corn. 

Diantha 
(clearly). 
Nay,  we  need  have  no  fear ;  for  on  one  side  Captain 
Miles  Standish  keeps  watch,  and  on  the  other  John 
Alden;  so  as  for  Indians 

Lettice 
(as  they  come  to  center). 
One  Indian  only  have  I  seen  this  day,  and  to  see 
him  is  ever  a  sign  of  good  omen. 

Diantha. 
That  means  that  Squanto  is  in  Plymouth  Town,  our 
good,  true  Indian  friend.     He  it  was  who  taught  us 
how  to  shell  the  corn,  so  many  months  agone ;  he  it  was 
who  taught  us,  this  Spring,  the  manner  of  sowing  it. 

Lettice 
(holding  up  Indian  basket). 
And  here  is  one  of  the  Indian  corn-baskets  that  Cap- 
tain Standish  found  buried  in  a  strange  wilderness  spot 
when  he  first  explored  these  forests. 


3o         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Anne 
(drawing  near  to  Lettice). 

These  forests — !  Oh,  my  heart!  As  night  draws 
on  how  dark  and  fearsome  they  appear !  And  now  that 
Spring  is  in  the  land  it  sets  me  longing  for  English 
hedgerows. 

[Sits  on  ground,  left,  and  begins  to  shell  corn. 

Lettice 

(joining  Anne  in  her  work). 

Do  you  remember  the  Spring  in  Leyden,  Diantha? 

DlANTHA 

(looking  upward  as  she  stands). 
Why,  even  here  the  Spring  is  very  fair!     Do  not 
the  sunlight,  the  blue  sky,  and  the  budding  trees  make 
your  heart  sing  with  joy? 

Anne. 
Sit,  then,  Diantha,  and  let  us  have  a  quiet  hour. 

Diantha 

(standing   behind   them,   half -gay,   half -mo  eking). 
A  quiet  hour — !    Hither  come  Patience  and  Miriam 
and   Ruth,    the   greatest   clatter-tongues   in   Plymouth. 
See!     They  have  been  gathering  wild  plum  blossoms! 
[Enter  Miriam,  Patience,  and  Ruth  from  back- 
ground.    They      hasten     towards     Diantha. 
The    exquisite    white    of    the    blossoms    they 
carry    makes   them   look   like  heralds  of  the 
Spring. 


PILGRIM  INTERLUDE  31 

Miriam 

(excitedly). 

Diantha,  what  dost  think!  Priscilla  Mullins  hath 
declared  herself  weary  of  spinning  in  her  own  door- 
yard,  and  since  Squanto  hath  told  us  that  we  need  not 
fear  the  Indians  she  hath  besought  Degory  Martin  and 
John  Billington  to  bring  hither  her  spinning-wheel. 

Patience 
(wide-eyed). 
Was  ever  the  like  known  in  Plymouth ! 

Ruth 

(as  all   look   eagerly   towards   background). 
Hither  she  comes! 

Priscilla 
(clearly  in  distance). 
Have  a  care,  Degory. 

Degory. 

Aye,  Mistress  Priscilla. 

Priscilla 

(as  they  emerge  from  background). 
Stumble  not,  John  Billington. 

John  Billington 
(sturdily). 
Not  while  I  bear  such  a  burden. 

[They  set  down  the  spinning-wheel,  center. 


32         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Priscilla. 

I  thank  you.  Will  you  come  for  me  when  the 
shadows  o'  the  pines  grow  long  across  my  doorway? 

[The  Pilgrim  lads  nod,  and  exeunt,  left  back- 
ground. 

Priscilla 

(to  Pilgrim  maidens). 

Well,  and  have  you  no  word  of  greeting?  Why, 
they  are  dumb  with  astonishment !  And  is  it  so  strange 
a  thing  to  bring  one's  wheel  outdoors?  'Twas  out  of 
doors  that  this  wood  first  grew!  (Touches  wheel.) 
All  day  I  have  longed  to  be  out  in  these  wide  spaces — 
and  yet  there  was  work  to  do.  But  see — now  I  weld 
heart's  desire  and  work  together! 

[She  begins  to  spin.  Meantime  Pilgrim 
maidens  group  about  her.     Tableau. 

Miriam. 

You  are  ever  one  to  see  the  bright  side  of  things, 
Priscilla,  and Look,  Priscilla — an  Indian! 

[At  sound  of  that  dread  word  all  the  maidens 
draw  near  to  Priscilla.  From  the  woods  in 
right  background  appears  Star-of -Spring,  the 
little  Indian  maiden.  She  carries  a  basket  of 
shell-fish  on  her  head,  steadying  it  with  her 
hand.  She  is  so  intent  on  walking  carefully 
that  she  does  not  see  the  group  of  Pilgrims 
until  she  is  nearly  upon  them.  There  ensues 
a  period  of  unflagging  pantomime.     Star-of- 


PILGRIM  INTERLUDE  33 

Spring,  upon  seeing  the  group  of  dark-clad 
maidens,  starts  back,  half  terrified.  Pris- 
cilla  rises,  and  as  an  overture  of  peace  and 
good-will,  takes  a  few  steps  towards  her. 
Star- of -Spring  retreats  still  further  towards 
right.  Priscilla  returns  to  her  wheel. 
Star-of -Spring,  emboldened,  takes  a  step  to- 
wards the  Pilgrim  maidens.  Pilgrim  maid- 
ens, quite  as  wary  of  Star-of -Spring  as  she  is 
of  them,  retreat  a  little  way  to  left.  At  this 
Star-of -Spring's  last  fears  vanish.  She  wishes 
to  be  friends.  With  pretty  pleading  she  holds 
out  to  them  her  basket  of  shell-fish.  Places 
it  on  the  ground  and  then  steps  back,  bow- 
ing, with  arms  wide  and  outstretched  palms. 

Priscilla. 

She  means  we  should  accept  it.     Is  that  not  truly 

generous !  ^ 

Diantha 

(reassured). 

It  must  be  Star-of-Spring,  the  little  Indian  maid  of 
whom  Squanto  has  so  often  told  us. 

[Diantha  takes  up  basket.  Pantomime  of  de- 
light on  part  of  Star-of-Spring.  She  draws 
near  to  Anne,  and  with  a  quaint  grace  touches 
Anne's  cap  and  kerchief.  Tries  on  Anne's 
cap,  and  looks  at  herself  in  a  barbaric  bit  of 
looking-glass  that  dangles  from  one  of  her 
many  chains  of  beads.     Then  laughs,  gives 


34         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

back  the  cap,  and  is  in  turn  fascinated  at  the 
sight  of  Priscilla  when  she  begins  spinning. 
Star-of-Spring  approaches  the  wheel  with 
pantomime  indicating  awe  and  delighted 
curiosity.  She  first  inspects  it,  and  then  be- 
gins to  talk  in  dumbshow  with  quick,  ani- 
mated gestures.  The  Pilgrim  maidens  are 
somewhat  bewildered. 

DlANTHA 

(as  the  meaning  of  the  scene  dawns  on  her), 
Priscilla!    She  wishes  to  spin! 

Anne. 

Thou  hast  done  many  strange  things  in  this  new 
land,  Priscilla;  but  I  doubt  not  that  the  strangest  of 
all  is  to  give  an  Indian  maiden  her  first  lesson  in 
spinning! 

[Priscilla  rises.  Star-of-Spring  seats  herself. 
Business  of  Priscilla's  teaching  her  to  spin. 
Haltingly  and  somewhat  fumblingly  she  does 
at  length  manage  to  compass  the  first  rudi- 
ments of  her  lesson.  The  Pilgrim  maidens 
stand  grouped  about  her.     Tableau. 

Degory 

(from  background). 

The  shadows  of  the  pines  lengthen  across  your  door- 
sill,  Priscilla! 

[At  sound  of  the  new  voice  Star-of-Spring  rises, 


PILGRIM  INTERLUDE  35 

and  hastily  retreats,  right.     Degory  Martin 
and  John  Billington  enter  from  background. 

DlANTHA. 

Only  think,  Degory,  Star-of-Spring,  an  Indian  maid, 
hath  had  a  spinning  lesson! 

Degory. 

The  shadows  are  lengthening.    Twilight  comes  apace 
here  in  the  forest.     'Tis  time  you  all  came  home. 

[The  maidens  of  Plymouth  follow  him  as  he 
and  John  Billington  take  the  spinning-wheel 
and  spinning-stool  with  them.  They  make 
their  exit  at  center  background.  Star-of- 
Spring,  who  has  lingered  at  edge  of  trees, 
right,  steals  out  to  look  after  her  departing 
play?nates.  Stands  at  place  where  spinning- 
wheel  was.  Again  shakes  her  head,  as  if  in 
perplexity  over  the  strange  arts  of  the  pale- 
faces. Finds  on  grass  part  of  a  skein  of  flax. 
Tosses  it  lightly  in  the  air.  Catches  it  again 
as  it  falls.  Begins  a  characteristic  dance, 
swaying,  tossing  skein,  catching  it.  Each  step 
of  the  dance  takes  her  further  into  back- 
ground. Then  she  comes  down  center  again, 
like  a  tossing  bough  or  a  blown  flame.  She 
does  not  perceive  the  group  entering  from  left. 
Her  mother  (Natiqua),  Forest  Flower,  and 
Heron  s  Wing.  They  also  are  so  occupied 
with  portage  that  they  do  not  perceive  Star* 


36         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

of-Spring  until  they  are  almost  up  to  her. 
Heron  s  Wing  and  Forest  Flower  carry  be- 
•  tween  them  a  birch-bark  canoe.  Behind  them 
trudges  Natiqua,  bent  beneath  a  double  pile 
of  fagots.  They  pass,  in  picturesque  sil- 
houettej  back  of  the  spot  where  Priscilla  had 
been  seated  with  her  spinning-wheel.  Then 
they  and  Star-of-Spring  become  aware  of  each 
other.  They  stop.  Natiqua  frowns.  Star- 
of-Spring  points  to  place  where  Priscilla  sat 
with  her  spinning-wheel,  and  by  animated 
gestures  portrays  what  has  taken  place.  But 
neither  Natiqua,  Forest  Flower,  nor  Heron  s 
Wing  is  in  the  least  interested.  Natiqua 
shakes  her  head  and  frowns.  It  is  evident 
that  the  wonders  of  the  palefacgs  are  not  to 
her  mind.  She  lets  slip  from  her  back  her 
double  pile  of  fagots,  then  replaces  one,  and 
Star-of-Spring  takes  up  the  other.  Then,  in 
Indian  file,  they  cross  the  scene  to  right,  and 
slowly  disappear  from  view. 

COSTUMES 

Pilgrim  Maidens.  The  Pilgrim  maidens  should 
wear  plain  black  dresses  ankle  length,  with  white  cuffs 
and  Puritan  caps,  and  white  kerchiefs.  These  dresses 
may  be  made  of  black  cambric,  worn  with  the  glazed 
side  turned  in. 

The  Pilgrim  Lads.     The  Pilgrim  lads  wear  black 


PILGRIM  INTERLUDE  37 

suits,  with  full  knee-breeches,  black  stockings,  and  low 
black  shoes  with  silver  buckles.  Their  hair  comes  to 
their  ears,  and  they  have  white  collars  turned  down  on 
their  coats,  and  deep  white  cuffs  on  their  sleeves. 

The  Indians.  The  Indians  wear  costumes  of 
cotton  khaki,  the  necks  gaily  painted  with  Indian  de- 
signs. Strings  of  beads  and  shells.  Natiqua  has  a 
green  and  scarlet  blanket.  She  and  the  Indian  maidens 
wear  their  hair  in  braids.  They  also  have  a  gay  strip 
of  cheesecloth — red,  green,  or  yellow — bound  about 
their  brows,  and  a  quill  stuck  upright  in  the  back. 
Heron's  Wing  has  a  head-dress  of  blue-gray  heron's 
feathers.  All  wear  moccasins.  (See  description  of  In- 
dian costumes  in  "  Princess  Pocahontas.") 


FERRY  FARM  EPISODE 

CHARACTERS 

Lord  Fairfax 

Mary  Ball  Washington 

George  Washington 

Aunt  Rachel 

Sambo 


>-  Plantation  hands 


Lucy 
Dinah 

Peter 
Nelly 
Susy 
Uncle  Ned 

Scene:  The  lawn  of  Ferry  Farm,  1748.  A  wide 
expanse  of  green.  Trees  right,  left,  and  background. 
The  trees  in  background  supposedly  screen  the  Colonial 
house  from  view.  At  the  left  the  estate  supposedly 
stretches  to  the  highway.  At  the  right,  behind  the 
trees,  it  is  given  over  to  flower  and  vegetable  gardens. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  scene  the  grassy  space  is 
deserted,  but  from  the  distance,  right,  comes  the  sound 
of  singing.  The  sound  swells  louder  and  louder  in 
She  rhythm  of  one  of  the  oldest  of  African  songs, 
"  Mary   and  Martha  just   gone   'long   to   ring   those 

38 


FERRY  FARM  EPISODE  39 

charming  bells."  The  first  verse  is  sung  before  the 
singers  appear.  With  the  second  verse  those  who  have 
been  at  work  in  the  fields  come  into  view,  their  gay 
and  colorful  costumes  bright  against  the  green  back- 
ground. 

Two  of  the  children  run  into  sight  first;  then  comes 
a  group  of  nine  or  ten  young  people.  Some  carry  be- 
tween them  baskets  heaped  quite  high  with  fruit  and 
vegetables.  One  boy  holds  a  hoe.  A  girl  carries  a^> 
rake.  Another  an  armful  of  dried  corn  on  the  ear. 
Two  more  a  low  basket  heaped  with  cotton.  In  the 
center  of  this  group  hobbles  old  Aunt  Rachel,  tur- 
baned,  and  leaning  on  a  cane.  By  her  side  walks  Lucy, 
carrying  a  great  bunch  of  pink  "  Winter  Roses." 

The  third  verse  is  sung  as  this  group  emerges  into 

full  view  of  the  audience.     The  children  stand  looking 

at  Aunt  Rachel  as  they  sing,  as  if  they  were  catching 

some  of  the   words  from    her.     She   beats   time   with 

her   finger   to    see   that   they    learn    correctly.     Other 

voices  take  up  the  song  in  right  background,  swelling 

it    higher   and   higher.     Uncle    Ned,    with    his   fiddle 

under  his  arm,  comes  slowly  from  right  to  join  the 

group  in  foreground.     The  baskets  are  set  down.     The 

boy  leans  on  his  hoe,  the  girl  on  her  wooden  rake,  rapt 

and  happy.     All  are  given   over  to  the  rhythmic  joy 

of  the  music. 

Uncle  Ned 

(with  a  sigh  of  happiness). 

I  certainly  do  love  music.     Nothing  cheers  the  heart 
like  singing — unless  it's  the  voice  of  the  fiddle. 


40         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Susy 

(hopping  up  and  down). 

Play  to  us,  Uncle  Ned,  play  to  us! 

[Uncle  Ned  tucks  his  fiddle  under  his  chin  and 
begins  to  play.  At  first  the  air  is  chant-like, 
and  has  a  strain  of  melancholy,  then  it  grows 
gayer  and  gayer,  until  it  turns  into  a  dance 
tune.  The  children  first  stand  about  Uncle 
Ned  in  a  circle,  listening.  Then  they  begin 
to  dance,  with  swaying  bodies  and  cries  of 
delight.  Here  and  there  a  girl  and  boy 
dance  opposite  each  other,  hands  on  hips. 
There  should  be  five  or  six  dancing  groups  in 
all.  Uncle  Ned  finishes  with  a  flourish,  and 
turns  towards  left. 

The  Children. 

Play  us  another  tune,   Uncle   Ned!     Play  us  an- 
other tune ! 

Uncle  Ned 

(to  a  little  girl  who  is  especially   imploring). 
No,   no,   honey.     There's  work   for  me   to   do  up 
yonder  at  the  house. 

[Goes  off,  left  background. 

Aunt  Rachel 

(still  swaying  a  little  and  nodding  her  head). 

It  certainly  does  take  the  fiddle  to  make  old  bones 
feel  young  again.    Where  are  you  going,  Susy? 


FERRY  FARM  EPISODE  41 

Susy 
(taking  up  her  basket  and  indicating  left). 
Off  to  the  stables. 

Aunt  Rachel 
(center). 
And  where  are  you  going,  Lucy? 

Lucy. 

Up  to  the  house  with  this  bunch  of  roses  for  Mistress 
Washington. 

Susy. 

Look !    Here  comes  Nelly  from  the  house  now. 

Nelly 

(running  down  from  background). 

Have  you-all  heard  the  news?    This  is  the  day  that 

Master  George  is  leaving  for  his  surveying  trip  with 

Lord  Fairfax.     See!     Mistress  Washington  is  coming 

to  speak  to  us  now! 

[All  look  in  the  direction  of  house.  Madam 
Washington  is  seen  approaching  from  the 
background,  center,  a  stately  figure  in 
Colonial  dress,  her  hair  slightly  touched  with 
gray.  Cries  of  "Good-morning,  Mistress 
Washington !  Good-morning !  "  Children 
skip  up  and  down.  Baskets,  hoe,  and  rake 
are  alike  forgotten.  Madam  Washington 
stands  in  center,  and  the  plantation  children 


42         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

are  grouped  in  a  wide  semicircle  about  her,  so 
that  all  she  does  is  in  full  view  of  audience. 
Lucy  presents  Madam  Washington  with  a 
bunch  of  roses.  Madam  Washington  takes 
them,  bows,  and  smiles.  Lucy  drops  a 
courtesy. 

Madam  Washington. 
How  is  your  fever,  Aunt  Rachel? 

Aunt  Rachel. 
Better,  better,  I  thank  you. 

Lucy. 

Is   this   the   day    that    Master   George   is   starting 

for 

Peter 

(as  he   comes  running  down  from   background). 

Mistress  Washington!  Mistress  Washington! 
Lord  Fairfax  has  come,  and  Master  George's  horse  is 
all  saddled  and  waiting. 

[Madam  Washington  turns  and  follows  Peter 
back  to  the  house. 

Aunt  Rachel 
(indicating  left). 

Come,  children!  You  can  see  the  road  from  here. 
There  he  is  on  his  horse! 

[Young    George    Washington,    in    tan-colored 
frontiersman's  garb,  is  seen  dimly  through  the 


FERRY  FARM  EPISODE  43 

trees.  With  him  a  stately  figure  that  is 
Lord  Fairfax.  They  wave  and  bow  in 
direction  of  house.  Then  George  waves  in 
direction  of  plantation  group  in  foreground. 

Sambo 
(shielding  his  eyes  with  his  hand), 
I  can  see  him!     I  can  see  him! 

All 

(looking  off  towards  left,  waving,  gesticulating), 
Good-by,  good-by,  Master  George! 

Others. 
Come     back     soon,     Master     George.      Good-by! 
Good-by ! 

Aunt  Rachel 

(sadly  shaking  her  head). 
He  is  gone !    How  we  will  miss  him ! 

[An    instant's  dejection    falls    on    the    group. 
They  stand  saggingly,  joy  gone  from  them. 

Aunt  Rachel 

(brightening). 

It's  only  for  a  short  time.     Only  for  a  short  time. 
He'll  be  back.     He'll  surely  be  back. 

[The    group    brightens.     A    tambourine    drops 
jinglingly.     It  is  picked  up.     Baskets  and  hoe 


44         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

are    resumed.      The    group    starts    towards 
background,  leisurely,  tunefully  singing: 

(Air:  Chorus  of  "  Down  Where  the  Cotton  Blossoms 

Grow.") 

Bright  shines  the  sun,  the  clover-fields  are  white, 
Through  the  woods  the  happy  children  go: 

As  gay  are  our  hearts  as  flowers  swinging  light, 
When  balmy  airs  of  Springtime  blow. 

Gaily  we  work  with  spade  and  rake  and  hoe, 
Golden  shines  the  burnished  sun  of  noon ; 

Then  in  the  fields  the  shadows  longer  grow, 
Time  to  be  looking  for  the  moon! 

Then  twilight  comes,  and  then  the  velvet  night, 
Stars  shine  like  a  beacon  through  the  gloam, 

The  old  cabin  road  is  gray  beneath  their  light, 
The  long  road  that  leads  us  to  our  home. 

[As  they  sing  the  darkies  move  towards  back- 
i  ground.       The     voices     grow     fainter     and 
fainter.     The  scene  ends. 

COSTUMES 

Lord  Fairfax.  Plum-colored  velvet.  Three- 
cornered  black  hat.     White  wig  with  cue. 

George  Washington.  Frontiersman's  suit  of  cot- 
ton khaki,  made  on  Indian  lines,  with  Indian  tunic, 


FERRY  FARM  EPISODE  45 

and  knee-breeches.  Tan  stockings,  with  strappings  of 
khaki  wound  round  them,  and  moccasins. 

Madam  Washington.  Dark  green  quilted  petti- 
coat. Overdress  and  bodice  of  dark  green,  flowered 
in  old  rose.  Elbow  sleeves.  White  ruffles  of  lace. 
White  lawn  fichu.     Powdered  hair. 

The  plantation  negroes  wear  tropically  bright  colors. 
All  the  colors  are  solid.  Aunt  Rachel  has  a  bright 
blue  dress  with  a  white  apron  and  kerchief,  and  a  black 
cloak  across  her  shoulders.  She  wears  a  scarlet  and 
yellow  turban,  and  huge  gold  hoops  in  her  ears.  The 
negro  girls  wear  red  and  blue  and  green  cotton  dresses 
with  white  kerchiefs,  and  colored  aprons — a  yellow 
apron  with  a  red  dress,  and  so  on.  Some  of  them  wear 
gay  little  turbans.  Their  feet  are  bare.  The  boys  wear 
black  knee-breeches,  and  bright-colored  shirts,  open  at 
the  neck.  Uncle  Ned  wears  black  knee-breeches,  low 
black  shoes,  and  a  faded  scarlet  vest  with  gilt  buttons 
opening  over  a  soft  white  shirt. 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON'S 
FORTUNE 

(Founded  on  a  legend  of  his  youth.) 
CHARACTERS 

George  Washington,  a  Youthful  Surveyor 

Richard  Genn  )    ^7         ,    ,      ,  .    , 

_  I     Young  lads  who  serve  respectively 

James  Talbot  v  tt  ,   .  „      ,  „    .,      „ 

ir  _  (as     chainmen     and     pdots 

Keith  Carey  J 

A  Frontiersman 

Red  Rowan,  his  daughter 

Scene:  ^tz  o/»e/z  woodland  glade  that  is  part  of  the 
wilderness  portion  of  Lord  Fairfax's  estate  beyond  the 
Blue  Ridge  Mountains  in  Virginia,  1748.  Trees  at 
right,  left,  and  background.  Trailing  vines.  Low 
bushes.  Underfoot  a  carpet  of  rotting  leaves.  At  the 
left,  near  foreground,  a  fire  smolders.  Near  it  are 
spread  a  bearskin  used  as  a  sleeping-blanket,  some  pine 
boughs,  surveyors'  tools,  and  a  tin  box.  At  the  right  a 
fallen  tree-trunk,  mossed,  vine-covered.  The  time  is 
mid-afternoon.  The  lads  who  enter  wear  the  garb  of 
frontiersmen;  but  when  the  play  begins  the  forest  glade 

46 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON'S  FORTUNE    47 

is  deserted  until  Richard  Genns  voice  is  heard  from  the 
woods  in   background. 

Richard  Genn. 

Come  on,  then,  Washington.  Hurry  there,  Talbot! 
(Genn  enters,  carrying  chains  and  a  surveyor  s  pole, 
and  comes  quickly  to  the  fire.)  Why,  the  ashes  have 
kept  their  heat  since  morning.  We  will  not  have  to 
start  another  fire. 

James  Talbot 

(entering  with  Washington  from  background). 

That's  good  hearing,  for  I'm  famished.  How  say 
you,  Washington? 

Washington 

(laughing  and  coming  to  fire). 

I  could  eat  a  wild  turkey,  feathers  and  all.  This 
life  in  the  wilderness  makes  one  keenly  hungry.  What's 
in  the  box,  Richard? 

Talbot 
(delving  into  tin  box). 
Bacon.    Some  dry  bread. 

Washington. 

Toast  the  bacon  between  the  bread,  and  we'll  have 
such  a  feast  as  is  due  to  young  surveyors  who've 
tramped  a  good  ten  miles  since  morning.  Now  then, 
Richard.  Here  are  some  sticks.  Let  each  lad  toast 
his  own. 


48         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Talbot 

(helping  to  prepare). 

The  very  smell  of  it  makes  me  ravenous.  (To 
Genu.)  I  wonder  where  your  Uncle  is,  and  Colonel 
Fairfax  ? 

Genn. 

Miles  from  here,  doubtless.  (Stretches.)  But  I 
am  stiff! 

Washington. 

And  where  can  Carey  be? 

Talbot. 

Oh,  Carey's  lagged  behind  to  get  a  shot  at  some 
grouse  that  he  means  to  have  for  supper.     Hark! 

Carey 

(in   background). 
Lads!     Lads!       Where  be  ye? 

Washington 

(calling  in  answer). 

Here,  Carey,  here.  (To  the  others.)  That's  he, 
now.    Well,  Carey,  what  luck? 

Carey 

(entering  from   background). 

Any  luck  but  pot  luck.  Missed  both  times.  No 
grouse  for  us.  I  almost  wish  I'd  raided  some  frontiers- 
man's cabin. 

[Sits  at  fire, 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON'S  FORTUNE    49 

Washington. 

"  Get  what  you  can  get  honestly."  (Passes  him  the 
bacon.)  "  Use  what  you  get  frugally."  That  was  an 
old  saying  I  learned  from  my  copybook,  and  even  in 
the  wilderness  it  seems  to  hold  true. 

Richard  Genn 

(as  they  sit  about  fire,  eating). 
What's  to  be  done  when  this  meal  is  finished? 

George  Washington. 

Naught  that  I  know  of.  I  can  do  no  more  till  I 
receive  further  orders  from  Colonel  Fairfax. 

Talbot. 

Well,  then,  we've  a  half-holiday.  'Tis  the  first  idle 
time  we've  had  in  three  weeks.  Up  before  dawn,  and 
to  bed  before  star-rise!  I  tell  you  it  makes  the  hours 
spin  fast.     How  shall  we  pass  our  leisure? 

Carey. 

I'm  going  back  for  those  grouse. 

[Rises. 
Talbot. 

I've  seen  the  bronze  of  a  wild  turkey's  wing. 

[Rises. 
Genn 

(smacking  his  lips). 

I'd  like  to  have  that  same  turkey  wing  here  before 
the  fire!     (Rises.)     I'm  with  you,  Talbot,  for  what- 


5o         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

ever  a  sportsman's  luck  may  bring.     And  you,  Wash- 
ington ? 

Washington. 

I'd  best  wait  here  to  see  if  a  message  comes  from 
Colonel  Fairfax.  If  in  one  hour  the  message  does  not 
come,  I'll  join  you. 

Genn 

(ready  to  start). 
Well,  then,  Talbot.  ^  ^  ^  ^ 

Washington 

(to  Carey). 

I  wish  you  luck!  May  you  flush  a  grouse  at  every 
ten  yards! 

[Lads  laugh,  and  exeunt,  background.  Wash- 
ington looks  after  them  a  moment,  and  then 
takes  surveying  paper  from   his  pocket. 

Washington. 

Now  for  my  wilderness  chart! 

[Pores  over  it.  From  the  distance  comes  the 
sound  of  a  frontiersman  s  ax,  which  he  is  too 
absorbed  to  notice.  Red  Rowan  enters  from 
the  right,  a  wild,  picturesque  young  figure 
in  a  scarlet  cloak. 

Washington 
(to   himself,  as  he  bends  over  his  chart). 
'Tis  not  so  easy  as  Little  Hunting  Creek! 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON'S  FORTUNE    51 

Red  Rowan 
(approaching  him). 
Nothing  is  easy  in  the  wilderness! 

Washington 
(starting  up,  gazing  at  her,  and  then  brushing  his  hand 

across  his  eyes). 
I  thought  I  was  studying  before  the  fire;  but  in- 
stead I've  been  dreaming  .    .    .  dreaming! 

Red  Rowan 

(shaking  her  head). 
No   dream!     Only  a  woodsman's  daughter.     You 
can  hear  my  father  yonder,  felling  oaks.     I  saw  the 
glimmer  of  your  fire  and  came. 

Washington 
(with  a  boyish  courtesy  and  shyness). 
Will  you — will  you  not  be  seated  ? 

Red  Rowan 
(seated  on  bearskin,  looking  at  fire). 
Folks  call  me  Red  Rowan. 

Washington. 
My  name  is  Washington.     George  Washington. 

Red  Rowan 
(still  looking  at  the  fire). 
You  have  a  shrewd  fire,  and  the  air  is  chill  in  these 
mountains. 


52         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Washington. 

Will  you  not  have  some  bacon  and  bread?  I  wish 
there  were  more  to  offer  you. 

Red  Rowan. 

I'll  have  a  taste  of  the  bacon  and  a  morsel  of  bread. 
(Washington  begins  to  prepare  them).     I  thank  you. 

Washington 
(toasting  bread  and  bacon). 
The  wilderness  must  be  rough-seeming  to  you. 

Red  Rowan. 

I'm  well-used  to  deep  forests  and  long,  hard  jour- 
neys, for  the  love  of  a  trail  is  in  my  blood.  My 
grandfather  was  a  gentleman  rover,  and  my  father  a 
frontiersman,   and   my  mother,  was — a  gipsy. 

Washington 

(surprised). 
A  gipsy? 

Red  Rowan 

(nodding). 

Aye,  but  she  died  when  I  was  little,  and  lies  buried 
oversea.  'Tis  ten  years  now  since  my  father  came  from 
England,  and  brought  me  with  him. 

Washington. 
You  have  known  little  of  a  roof,  then. 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON'S  FORTUNE    53 

Red  Rowan. 

Aye,  or  of  schooling.  But  forests  are  kind  teachers, 
and  have  given  me  much.  There  is  a  lore  deeper 
than  the  lore  of  books.  You  too  must  know  it.  For 
with  lonely  campfires  and  winding  roads  and  sharp, 
white,  frosty  stars  one  comes  to  gather  wisdom. 
Schoolbooks  may  give  you  the  past,  but  it  is  in  my 
blood  to  know 

Washington 

(as  she  pauses). 
The  future — ! 

Red  Rowan 

(slowly,  gazing  at  fire). 

Or  so  I  tell  myself.  I  must  ofttimes  make  up  fan- 
cies to  help  the  long  days  pass.  (Rises.)  Come,  for 
a  jest,  let  me  read  your  palm,  Master  Washington. 
And  in  after  years  you  may  say:  "  Why,  so  Red  Rowan 
told  me!" 

Washington. 

Would  you  have  me  put  faith  in  witchcraft? 

Red  Rowan 

(offended). 

Do  I  look  like  a  witch?  Nay,  but  you  know  right 
well  I  do  not.  Come,  let  me  read  your  hand.  'Tis  a 
mere  jest,  and  will  do  no  harm,  and  you  need  not  be- 
lieve a  word  I  say. 


54        THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Washington. 

I  will  not,  if  it  is  flattering;  for  I  have  learned  afore- 
time that  humility  is  the  forerunner  of  advancement.* 

Red  Rowan 
(seated  on  mossy  log,  as  she  reads  his  hand). 
What  would  you  wish  to  be  ? 

Washington 

(simply). 

When  I  grow  older,  a  man  of  deeds,  not  words.* 

Red  Rowan. 

Well,  then,  give  hither.  (Reading  his  hand.)  Your 
name  is  Washington,  and  you  come  from  beyond  Blue 
Ridge.  All  this  I  know.  For  the  rest,  let  me  read. 
You  are  well  versed  in  woodcraft,  but  not  so  well  in 
books. 

Washington. 

There  I  must  mend  me. 

Red  Rowan. 

Aye.  You  are  a  notable  horseman:  your  wrist  is 
quick  at  the  foils;  you  can  swim,  climb,  and  fight,  if 
need  be.  You  are  strong,  and  your  valor  equals  your 
strength,  your  courtesy,  your  bearing.  The  line  of 
truth  is  here.     You  smile? 

#  Washington's  own  words. 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON'S  FORTUNE  55 

Washington. 

I  was  thinking  of  the  matter  of  a  hatchet  and  a 
cherry  tree! 

Red  Rowan 

(still  reading). 

Through  all  your  life,  success  will  smile  upon  you. 
Here  are  the  marks  of  battles.  Here  are  the  lines  of 
hardships  and  of  victories.  And  all  these  little  lines — 
see,  marches,  marches,  marches!  You'll  be  a  colonel, 
and  perhaps  a  general.  You  laugh?  Some  day  you'll 
see!  'Twill  all  come  true!  You'll  fight  in  a  great 
cause. 

Washington 

(puzzled). 

What  cause  is  there  to  fight  for? 

Red  Rowan. 

That  I  do  not  know.  But  here  'tis  clearly  written. 
And  you  will  win.  Your  name  will  be  on  all  men's 
tongues.  'Tis  a  long  road,  and  all  up  hill.  But  at 
the  summit — triumph!  Remember  that.  Upon  the 
summit  is  triumph. 

Washington 

(half -soberly). 
And  for  the  rest? 

Red  Rowan. 
You'll  be  upon  a  farmstead  with  great,  rolling  acres. 


56         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Washington. 

Forest  or  farmstead,  I  care  not  which.  That  part 
is  true  enough,  Mistress  Rowan.  There  was  a  time 
when  I  wished  to  go  to  sea;  but  now  I  hope  to  spend 
my  life  at  Ferry  Farm. 

Red  Rowan 

(rising). 

Part  of  it  will  be  spent  far  otherwise.  Remember 
that  I  told  you. 

Washington 

(courteously). 

Aye,   I'll   remember,  tho'   'tis  but  a  jest. 

Red  Rowan 

(pausing). 

Aye,  a  jest  wrought  of  gipsy  magic.  I  wish  you 
well,  Master  Washington,  and  I  thank  you  for  your 
hospitality. 

Frontiersman's  Voice 

(calling  from  right). 
Rowan ! 

Red  Rowan 

(answering). 

I'm  coming,  father.  (To  Washington.)  Remem- 
ber, Master  Washington,  that  I  told  you. 

[Exit  Rowan,  quickly  and  lightly. 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON'S  FORTUNE    57 

Washington 
(smiling  to  himself). 
Remember!    Why,  'tis  the  merest  jest. 

Carey 

(from  background). 

Time's  up,  George!  There's  wondrous  sport.  Are 
you  not  coming? 

Washington 

(to    Carey). 

Aye,  I  am  coming.  (To  himself.)  But  the  merest 
jest!  "  To  fight  in  a  great  cause — !  "  "  A  long  hill, 
and  a  hard,  and  at  the  summit — triumph !  "  (Shaking 
off  the  spell  the  words  have  cast  on  him).  The  lads 
would  laugh,  did  I  but  tell  them!  (Calls,  in  answer 
to  impatient  steps,  and  crackling  of  leaves  in  back- 
ground.)   I  come! 

[He  makes  his  exit  into  background,  running 
blithely,  and  the  play  ends. 

COSTUMES 

George  Washington.  Frontiersman's  suit, 
modeled  on  Indian  lines.  The  suit  is  tan-colored, 
supposedly  made  of  dressed  deerskin.  The  breeches 
and  tunic  are  fringed,  Indian  fashion.  There  is  neither 
paint  nor  beading  upon  the  suits.  Moccasins.  The 
other  lads  wear  suits  of  the  same  kind.    The  material 


58         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

can  be  cotton  khaki.    The  moccasins  can  be  made  of  the 
same,  and  beaded. 

Red  Rowan.  Dress  of  leaf-brown  homespun  made 
rather  short,  and  quite  plain,  open  at  the  neck,  the 
sleeves  coming  to  the  elbow.  A  cloak  of  vivid  scarlet, 
gathered  in  simple  folds  at  neck,  and  falling  to  the 
ankles.  Both  dress  and  cloak  may  be  made  of  cambric, 
using  the  unglazed  side.  Tan  stockings.  Moccasins. 
The  latter  may  be  made  of  cotton  khaki,  and  beaded. 


DANIEL  BOONE:   PATRIOT 

CHARACTERS 

Daniel  Boone,  a  pioneer. 
Roger  Kenton,  a  lad 
Allan  Rigdon,  another 
Blaize  Pritchard,  a  trapper 
Edward  Bryan 
James  Colby 

Black  Fish,  an  Indian  Chief 
Hawk  Eye,  a  young  Indian  Brave 
Eagle's  Feather,  another 
Other  Pioneers,  Trappers,  Indians 

(Note:  The  events  comprised  in  this  play  cover  a  longer 
period  of  time  than  is  suggested  here.) 

Scene:  An  open  woodland.  Place,  the  Blue  Lick 
Springs,  Kentucky,  1778.  Trees  right,  left,  and  back- 
ground. A  slightly  worn  path  leads  to  background 
where  the  salt  springs  are  supposed  to  be.  Tall  poles 
with  skins  on  them.  A  large  kettle  swings  over  the 
fire  in  right  foreground.  Near  it  are  other  kettles, 
iron  saucepans,  and  sacks  for  salt.  In  center  back- 
ground a  hollow  tree  with  swinging  moss  covering  its 
opening.     A  fallen  log  near  the  kettles  serves  as  a  seat, 

59 


60         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

The  play  begins  by  young  Allan  Rigdon  coming  out 
of  woods,  left,  with  a  few  fagots  which  he  feeds  to  the 
fire,  bending  over  it,  and  looking  in  the  kettle.  James 
Colby  comes  by  the  half-worn  path  from  background, 
carrying  a  bucket  of  water. 

Colby 

(calling). 

How  comes  the  salt,  Rigdon?  If  'twere  not  that 
these  licks  give  it  in  such  abundance,  'twould  try  a  lad's 
patience  sorely.  'Tis  like  a  girl's  work — tending 
kettles!  And  hardly  a  man's  work — carrying  water 
from  a  spring.  (Puts  down  pail  of  water.)  'Faith, 
my  arms  are  stiff,  and  my  fingers  also!  If  an  Indian 
sprang  at  me  from  a  thicket  I  could  not  so  much  as 
cock  my  gun!  What  shall  I  do  next?  Carry  more 
water?  The  rest  are  still  drawing  it — more  girl's 
work,  if  you'll  leave  me  call  it  so !  (As  a  slight  sound 
is  heard  at  left.)  Heaven's  mercy!  What's  that? 
(Seizes  gun.)     Is  it  Indians? 

Boone 

(quietly  approaching  from  left). 

And  if  it  were,  would  your  work  be  only  girl's  work, 
Colby?  It  shows  you  but  a  foolish  lad  to  speak  of  it 
thus  lightly.  With  all  Boonesborough  in  need  of  salt, 
with  our  cattle  and  horses  half-perishing  for  the  want 
of  it,  with  the  way  that  lies  to  the  licks  a  very  wilder- 
ness road  for  danger,  'twould  hardly  be  called  girl's 
work   to   tend    these    kettles — brave   as   our   frontier 


DANIEL  BOONE:  PATRIOT  61 

women  are.     'Tis  mens  work,  Colby,  although  you  be 
but  lads  who  do  it. 

Rigdon. 

The  wilderness  makes  men  of  lads  right  quickly ;  does 
it  not,  Master  Boone  ? 

Boone 

(seated  on  log). 

Aye,  that  it  does.  If  it  were  not  for  the  stress  of 
the  times,  and  the  scarcity  of  men  to  keep  watch,  you 
should  be  back  in  Boonesborough,  and  not  here,  my 
lads.  But  'twas  for  your  courage  and  skill  that  I  chose 
you.    How  comes  the  salt,  Rigdon? 

Rigdon. 
Finely,  sir,  finely.    And  the  hunting? 

Boone 

(shaking  his  head). 

Scarce  enough  to  keep  a  fox  alive.  I  must  start  forth 
again.  There  should  be  plenty  of  bison  fat  and  deer 
meat  for  the  days  that  are  coming.  (Enter  Kenton 
with  bucket  of  water.  He  puts  it  down,  and  salutes 
Boone.)     Well,  Kenton,  what  news  from  the  springs? 

Kenton. 

The  same  as  ever,  sir.  Blaize  Pritchard  and  Edward 
Bryan  stand  guard  while  the  rest  of  us  carry  water. 
The  camp  is  as  you  see  it.  There's  not  been  a  sign  of 
an  Indian  since  you  left  us  yesternight. 


62         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Boone. 

You  do  not  ask  what  I've  brought  back  with  me, 
Kenton. 

Kenton. 

I  know,  sir,  that  if  there  were  game  to  be  had  you 
would  have  bagged  it.  But  since  we've  come  to  the 
Blue  Lick  Springs  the  buffalo  and  deer  seem  to  have 
gotten  wind  of  us.  There's  not  so  much  as  a  rabbit 
scampering  across  the  grass.  It  seems  as  if  nature  her- 
self were  in  league  against  us. 

Boone. 

Nonsense,  lad.  There'll  be  game  enough  soon,  when 
I've  foraged  further.  Such  times  as  these  were  sent  to 
us  to  see  whether  we  be  of  iron  or  putty. 

Kenton. 

All  the  same,  sir,  I'll  be  glad  when  the  boiling  is 
done  and  we  can  pack  our  salt,  and  start  through  the 
forest  for  home.  Long  as  the  trail  is,  I  would  sooner 
have  it  than 

Boone 

(clutching  rifle). 

Hark!  The  crack  of  a  branch — in  the  forest.  On 
the  defense,  lads.     I'll  investigate. 

[Goes  into  woods  at  right. 


DANIEL  BOONE:  PATRIOT  63 

Kenton 

(in  a  low  voice,  as  the  lads  seize  their  rifles). 

If  it  should  be  those  venomous  Shawnees!  Before 
we  left  Boonesborough  'twas  said  that  they'd  already 
passed  the  war-pipe  through  their  villages.  They  have 
been  still  so  long,  'tis  time  for  an  uprising.  (Approach- 
ing footsteps  are  heard.)     Who  comes? 

Colby 
(on  the  alert). 
Just  Boone  himself. 


What  signs,  sir 


RlGDON. 


Boone. 


No  signs  at  all,  unless  for  the  first  time  in  their 
lives  the  Indians  are  shrewder  than  the  Long  Knives. 
There's  not  so  much  as  a  broken  branch,  or  a  newly 
fallen  leaf.  Now,  lads,  off  to  the  spring  with  you. 
I'll  tend  this  last  kettle,  and  when  'tis  boiled,  I'll  start 
on  the  trail  again.  There  must  be  bison  and  deer  for 
the  followers  of  Daniel  Boone.  Lads,  stay!  If  be- 
cause we  are  unmolested  you  should  sometimes  think 
that  tending  the  kettle  is  work  for  girls — remember 
that  we  and  our  guns  are  all  that  stand  between  the  In- 
dians and  the  fort  at  Boonesborough,  where  all  the 
women  and  children  are.     Will  you  remember? 


64         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

All 

(speaking  vehemently). 
Aye,  sir. 

Boone. 

And  as  I  take  the  trail  I  will  remember  the  lads 
who've  lived  on  dry  bread  and  the  paring  of  bacon 
rinds,  and  who've  tasted  naught  but  parched  buffalo 
meat  in  three  weeks. 

Rigdon. 
You've  gone  hungry  yourself,  sir. 

Boone. 

Well,  lads,  'tis  all  in  the  day's  luck.  We'll  not 
suffer  for  meat  if  I  can  shoot  an  elk  or  a  bear.  (Lads 
exeunt  through  trees  in  background,  Boone  watching 
them.)     Brave  lads  they  are,  and  true! 

[He  tends  the  kettle,  facing  audience.  After  a 
moment  Indians  stealthily  appear  in  back- 
ground. 

Eagle's  Feather 

(as  two  of  the  braves  seize  Boone). 

Long  Knife,  surrender! 

[There  is  a  brief  struggle  between  Boone  and 
the  braves;  but  the  former  finds  that  it  is 
useless  to  resist. 


DANIEL  BOONE:  PATRIOT  65 

Hawk  Eye. 

Shawnees  on  warpath.  Long  have  watched  Boone 
and  tried  to  trap  him.  Now  have  got  him.  Boone 
show  trail  to  Boonesborough. 

Boone 

(to    himself,   in   a   tense   whisper), 

Boonesborough  ? 

Black  Fish 

(majestically). 

What  answer  does  Long  Knife  Boone  make?  If 
Long  Knife  joins  tribe,  Long  Knife  will  be  treated 
with  honor.  All  at  Boonesborough  will  be  killed;  but 
Boone's  life  will  be  spared  if  he  joins  tribe.  What 
answer  does  Long  Knife  Boone  make? 

[Boone  considers  deeply  for  a  moment.  His 
gun  has  been  taken  from  him;  but  he  is  so 
closely  surrounded  that  his  arms  are  left  free. 
He  considers  deeply  for  another  moment, 
arms  crossed  on  breast,  head  bowed.  Looks 
up  for  an  instant.  Gives  a  searching  glance  at 
the  Indians.  Considers  again  for  a  moment* 
Then  raises  his  head. 

Boone. 

Long  Knife  says — yes! 

[Holds  out  his  hands,  smiling. 


66         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

All  Indians 

(delighted  at  pantomime  of  acquiescence), 

Wah! 

Black  Fish 

(waving  tomahawk  in  air). 

Long  Knife's  brothers — over  by  spring! 

All  Indians 

(in  chorus). 
Kill!    Kill! 

Boone. 

Wait !  Black  Fish  try  to  kill  Long  Knife's  brothers. 
Long  Knife's  brothers  fight  back.  Kill  maybe  one 
brave.  Maybe  two  braves.  Maybe  three  braves. 
But — Boone  speak  to  his  white  brothers.  They  sur- 
render to  Black  Fish.  No  fighting.  No  braves  killed. 
What  does  Black  Fish  answer? 

Black  Fish. 

Black  Fish  answers:  Long  Knife  show  great  wis- 
dom.    Black  Fish  do  as  Long  Knife  says. 

[Some  of  the  Indians  start  in  the  direction  of 
the  spring. 

Hawk  Eye 

Umph!  (grunting). 

[Kenton  is  suddenly  brought  in  by  two  braves 
who  have  captured  him.  As  his  eye  falls  on 
Boone  his  voice  shrills  with  terror. 


DANIEL  BOONE:  PATRIOT  67 

Kenton. 
Oh,  they  have  caught  you!    They  have — 

[The  rest  of  the  pioneers  begin  to  appear  from 
background,  closely  guarded  by  the  Indians. 

Colby 
(as  all  of  Boone's  little  band  are  brought  in  as  captives). 
What's  this?     Not  Boone  a  traitor? 

Boone. 

Hush!  (To  the  other  white  men.)  No  use  to  fight. 
We  are  surrounded.  (To  Black  Fish.)  Does  Black 
Fish  give  me  leave  to  speak  to  my  comrades  apart? 

[Black  Fish  nods  assent.  Boone  and  his  band 
withdraw  to  left.  The  Indians  withdraw  to 
right.  Each  side  holds  a  conference.  That 
of  the  Indians  is  in  pantomime, 

Boone 

(to  his  band). 

No  use  to  fight,  lads.  Put  up  your  guns.  (Indicates 
Indians.)  Half  a  score  more  are  in  the  woods  behind 
us.  If  we  surrender,  we  may  gain  some  time.  If  we 
refuse,  we're  lost.  They'll  march  at  once  on  Boones- 
borough. 

Kenton. 

Wilson  's  gone  free,  sir.  He'll  take  Boonesborough 
the  news  of  our  capture. 


68         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS  s 

Boone 

(rapidly). 

Aye;  but  he  cannot  take  them  the  news  of  what 
Black  Fish  means  to  do.  No  one  in  Boonesborough 
knows  that  the  Indians  are  on  the  warpath.  A  mas- 
sacre is  planned.  The  fires  are  lit.  The  tomahawks 
are  ready.  We  must  gain  time.  'Tis  all  that  we  can 
do.  We  must  surrender.  I'll  break  through  when 
I  can.  (Loudly.)  Think  well,  my  brothers.  Here  is 
freedom  offered  you,  if  you  surrender.     What  do  you 

say? 

Pritchard 

(loudly). 

I  say  that  we  surrender. 

[Boone,  turning,  makes  a  gesture  to  the  spot 
where  their  guns  lie  piled,  then  towards  the 
Indians  as  one  would  say:  "  We  give  in" 

Black  Fish. 

My  brothers,  we,  too,  have  had  a  council.     Far  in 

the    North   the   British   pay   much    gold    for   paleface 

prisoners. 

Pritchard 

(involuntarily). 

Oh,  Boone,  we're  sold! 

Boone 

(quickly). 

No!  Saved!  The  British  will  take  a  ransom,  and 
Boonesborough  will  pay  it  to  the  uttermost  farthing. 


DANIEL  BOONE:  PATRIOT  69 

(In  a  low  voice.)     Come,  strategy!     Strategy!     I  will 
break  through  to-night. 

Pritchard. 

Great  Chief  Black  Fish,  to  you  we  have  surrendered. 
With  your  braves  we  will  take  the  trail  to  the  British 
encampment. 

Black  Fish 
(grunting  with  pleasure). 

Umph!  Much  money  for  paleface  prisoners.  (To 
Hawk  Eye).  Give  prisoners  bison  meat.  Water. 
See  they  not  die  on  road.  No  want  to  lose  money  they 
bring.  Braves  march  now.  Boone  not  go.  Boone  stay 
with  us. 

[While  Black  Fish  has  been  speaking  the  braves 
and  their  prisoners  line  up  for  departure. 
Meantime,  from  the  woods  in  background 
other  Indians  have  joined  the  group.  Those 
who  have  captured  Boone  describe  the  feat 
in  dumbshoiv.  The  newly  arrived  Indians 
bear  food,  a  blanket  or  so,  a  war-drum,  pipes, 
etc. 

Boone 

(striving  to  speak  gaily). 

A  good  journey,  my  lads.    I  shall  be  thinking  of  you. 

Edward  Bryan 
(low:  aside,  full  of  commiseration). 
You  will  be  here  alone! 


70         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Boone 

(hurriedly,  seeing  that  Bryan  s  remark  has  been  over' 

heard  by  the  Indians). 

With  my  kind  brothers!  (Quickly,  seeing  that  Black 
Fish's  back  is  turned.)  March  bravely,  lads.  Remem- 
ber Boonesborough ! 

Pritchard 

(moved). 

Your  hand,  Boone. 

Boone 

(clasping  Pritchard 's  hand). 

My  comrade! 

[They  look  at  each  other  a  long  moment. 
Then  the  line,  Indian-guarded,  and  led  by 
Hawk  Eye,  marches  out,  left. 

Black  Fish 

Now  we  make  a  great  feast.     Celebrate. 

[They  all  sit  on  ground.  War-pipe  is  passed. 
Gourds  with  grape  ivine.  Dried  fish.  Dried 
fruits.  General  hum  of  excitement  and 
pleasure.  Animated  and  colorful  groups. 
Boone  smokes  the  ivar-pipe  when  it  is  passed 
to  him.  Drinks  and  eats  freely  with  the 
others.  Through  it  all,  now  soft,  now  loud, 
sounds  the  drone  of  the  war-drum.  Now 
and  again  a  young  buck  yells  jubilantly,  or 
ejaculates  a  shrill  "  E-yah !  "  of  pleasure. 
They  rise  from  feasting  to  dance  in  a  war- 


DANIEL  BOONE:  PATRIOT  71 

circle  about  the  drum,  right.  Boone  does  a 
few  steps  with  them,  and  then  retreats  to  left 
of  stage.  More  dances.  Speeches  with  short 
guttural  words  and  grunts.  Waving  of 
tomahawks.  Shrill  cries.  Another  circle  is 
formed  about  the  war-drum.  Attention 
drifts  away  from  Boone.  Finally,  after  a 
second  dance  about  the  war-drum  Eagle's 
Feather  gives  a  sudden  cry  of  "  Boone! 
Boone  gone!'  Intense  excitement.  Cries 
of  rage.  General  search  as  Indians  exeunt 
right  and  left.  One  or  two  lag  behind  and 
look  in  bushes.  Eagle's  Feather  pulls  back 
swinging  moss  from  hollow  tree  and  looks 
within.  Then  the  baffled  Indians  dart  off 
stage,  right.  A  moment  later  Boone  enters 
from  left.  Looks  warily  about  him,  right, 
left,  and  background.  Then  darts  into  hol- 
loiu  tree.  A  moment  later  the  Indians, 
headed  by  Eagle's  Feather,  enter  right,  left, 
and  background.  They  gesticulate  with  cries 
of  "  Boonesborough !  "  Some  urge  taking  the 
way  at  left,  others  the  way  at  right.  Eagle's 
Feather  is  among  the  latter.  The  way  at 
right  is  ultimately  decided  upon.  With  a 
final  yell  of  "Boonesborough!"  and  great 
swinging  of  tomahawks,  all  the  Indians  exeunt 
right.  The  drone  of  the  war-drum  begins, 
and  grows  fainter  and  fainter  as  they  go  into 
the   forest.     The   gourds   and   blankets   and 


12        THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

pipes  they  have  collected  and  taken  with  them 
as  supplies  for  the  march. 

Boone 

(coming  triumphantly  out  of  his  hollow  tree). 

They  have  taken  the  wrong  trail!  I  am  free  to 
warn  my  people!  I  can  gain  the  fort  ere  the  Indians 
reach  it!     Boonesborough  is  saved. 

[Exit  Boone,  running  left.     The  grassy  space  is 
left  vacant,  and  the  scene  ends. 

COSTUMES 

Daniel  Boone.  Daniel  Boone  and  his  followers 
wear  suits  of  buckskin  made  on  Indian  lines.  (Cotton 
khaki  imitates  the  tan  color  of  the  buckskin.)  Long 
breeches,  the  buckskin  tunic  coming  about  to  the  knee. 
It  is  fringed.  There  is  no  adornment  on  the  tunics 
such  as  Indians  wear.  The  lads  of  the  party  wear 
buckskin  breeches  of  knee-length,  and  tan  strapping 
over  tan-colored  stockings.  They  should  all  wear  moc- 
casins, or  imitation  moccasins  made  of  khaki,  and  em- 
broidered in  beads. 

The  Indians.  The  Indians  wear  suits  resembling 
those  of  Boone  and  his  followers,  save  that  they  have 
painted  insignia  and  bead  and  shell  embroidery. 
Black  Fish  has  a  great  black  fish  painted  on  his  khaki 
costume.  All  wear  moccasins.  All  have  feathered 
head-dresses  and  war-paint.  The  war-paint  of  Black 
Fish  is  scarlet  and  black,  and  he  wears  an  immense 


DANIEL  BOONE:  PATRIOT  73 

black  head-dress  of  feathers  that  is  longer  and  hand- 
somer than  those  of  any  of  the  others.  Eagle's  Feather 
wears  a  scarlet  head-band  and  one  huge  gray  eagle's 
feather  in  it,  stuck  upright.  For  further  description 
of  Indian  finery  see  description  of  braves  in  "  Princess 
Pocahontas."  The  blankets  and  baskets  can  be  the 
same  in  this  play  as  in  that  one. 

Properties.  The  hollow  tree  can  be  made  of  two 
halves  of  barrels  fastened  together,  and  stood  upright 
by  means  of  props  put  behind  it.     It  should  be  painted 

dark  brown  inside  and  out,  or  covered  with  dark-brown 

* 

burlap  flecked  with  black  and  white  for  lichen.  Green 
vines  can  be  hung  about  it,  and  it  should  stand  well  in 
the  background,  resembling  a  rotting  and  blasted  tree 
as  much  as  possible. 


BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN    EPISODE 

CHARACTERS 

Young  Benjamin  Franklin 
An  Old  Woman 

SCENE  I 

Boston  Common  on  a  Summer  afternoon,  IJ20. 

The  Common  is  an  open  grassy  space,  wide  to  the 
sun  and  sky.  There  are  trees  right,  left,  and  back- 
ground. Their  shadows  fall  like  a  wavering  tracery 
across  the  grass. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  scene  this  grassy  space  is 
deserted.  It  is  the  far  end  of  the  Common,  a  place  not 
much  frequented  by  loiterers.  The  first  person  to 
cross  it  is  young  Benjamin  Franklin,  who  comes  slowly 
in  from  right.  He  wears  knee-breeches,  a  loose  white 
shirt,  silver  buckles  on  his  square-toed  shoes,  and  a 
three-cornered  hat  on  his  head.  He  is  reading  from  a 
book  which  he  holds  in  his  right  hand,  while  on  his  left 
arm  hangs  a  basket  of  tallow  candles.  Slung  across  his 
left  shoulder  is  a  kite,  its  string  trailing. 

He  walks  slowly,  pausing  every  now  and  then  to 
turn  a  page.     The  old  woman  enters  from  right,  and 

74 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  EPISODE        75 

comes  quickly  towards  Franklin.  She  is  wonderfully 
keen-eyed  and  light  of  foot,  and  is  clad  in  a  green  quilted 
petticoat,  with  a  green  bodice,  a  touch  of  white  at  neck, 
and  a  green  double  cape.  A  white  cap  is  perched  on  her 
snow-white  head.  She  also  carries  a  small  market- 
basket,  and  a  gold-headed  cane.  Her  stockings  are 
scarlet,  her  low  black  shoes  have  gold  buckles.  She 
is,  withal,  arrestingly  picturesque,  and  there  hangs 
about  her  a  slight  air  of  mystery,  that  is  well  in  ac- 
cordance with  her  profession,  which  is  that  of  sooth- 
sayer. 

Frank  }in  is  so  deep  in  his  book  that  she  soon  catches 
up  with  him,  passes  him,  looks  back,  and  sees  that  he 
does  not  perceive  her.  Then  she  stands  still  and  lets 
him  pass  her,  still  staring  at  him.  Then  she  comes 
briskly  up  behind  him,  and  taps  him  on  the  arm  with 
her  cane. 

The  Old  Woman. 

Fare  not  so  fast,  young  sir.     If  your  book  makes  you 

so  blind  to  customers,  'tis  not  many  candles  you'll  be 

selling. 

Franklin 

(at    first   somewhat   startled,    then    looking    up    quite 

calmly). 

And  if  I  do  not  mind  my  books,  'tis  naught  but 
candles  I'll  be  selling  all  my  life. 

The  Old  Woman. 

Well  spoken,  tallow-chandler's  son.  Whatever  your 
calling,   I  see  that  your  wits  are  not  made  of  wax. 


76         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Give  me  a  shilling's  worth  o'  candles,  and  tell  me  what 
good  your  toil  is  like  to  bring  you. 

Franklin 

(putting  down  book,  kite,  and  basket,  and  selecting 

candles). 

I  have  ambition  to  become  a  printer. 

The  Old  Woman 

(paying  him  and  putting  candles  in  her  basket). 

So! 

Franklin. 

And  if  I  do  not  apply  myself,  how  am  I  like  to 
learn?  There  are  no  gains  without  pains,  and  heaven 
gives  all  things  to  Industry.* 

The  Old  Woman 

(holding  up  her  hands). 

To  hear  him!  (Chuckling  to  herself.)  Keep  on! 
Keep  on!  You'll  ne'er  be  sorry  for  it!  Aha,  Master 
Franklin,  'twill  take  no  gazing  in  the  crystal  to  see 
that  the  future  of  a  wise  and  industrious  lad  is  made  of 
gold.  What's  that  you're  carrying  as  carefully  as  if 
'twas  your  book  ? 

Franklin 

(dropping  book  and  basket,  and  showing  kite). 

My  kite.  To-day  was  a  half-holiday,  and  I've  been 
flying  it  on  Beacon  Hill  till  the  wind  hath  made  me 
sleepy. 

*From  "Poor  Richard's  Almanac." 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  EPISODE        77 

The  Old  Woman 
(keenly). 
You've  fastened  a  little  key  to  it. 

Franklin 

(with  a  burst  of  candor). 

Sometimes  I  think  I'll  fly  it  in  a  thunderstorm  and 
gather  up  the  lightning. 

The  Old  Woman 

(tappirg  the  ground  vigorously  with  her  cane). 

Those  are  bold  words,  Master  Benjamin  Franklin. 
Are  you  not  feared  to  speak  them?  (Looks  half-fear- 
fully  over  her  left  shoulder.)  Folk  might  think  you 
were  in  league  with — with  strange  powers!  (There  is 
a  touch  of  the  eighteenth-century  beldame  in  her  as  she 
speaks  these  words). 

Franklin. 

How  is  it  that  you  know  my  name,  and  yet  I  do  not 
remember  you? 

The  Old  Woman 

(mysteriously). 

Perhaps  there  are  too  many  soothsayers  passing,  or 
perhaps  you  have  not  looked  well  about  you.  Aha, 
aha!  (Nodding  and  blinking.)  There  are  many 
things  folk  do  not  see. 


78         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Franklin 

(shrewdly   and   bluntly). 

That's  true.  My  father  says  that  all  the  witches 
were  not  hanged  on  Salem  Hill. 

The  Old  Woman 

(finger  upraised). 

S-ssh!  Never  that  word!  Never  that  word,  Mas- 
ter Franklin!  Come,  I  am  for  crossing  the  Common, 
and  for  your  good-will,  and  because  you  are  a  wise 
lad,  I'll  lend  you  my  crystal. 

[Gives  it  to  him. 
Franklin 

(putting  book  in  basket  with  candles,  and  turning  crys- 
tal to  the  light). 

How  it  shines  in  the  sun! 

The  Old  Woman 

(with  cane  upraised  and  wand-like  for  a  moment). 

Look  in  it.  Look  deep  in  it.  'Twill  give  you 
dreams,  Master  Franklin,  all  good,  good  dreams. 
Dreams  o'  the  future,  Master  Franklin! 

[Franklin  stands  still  in  background,  looking  at 
the  crystal  as  the  Old  Woman  goes  on  her 
way.  The  branches  of  the  trees  under  which 
he  stands  cast  wavering  shadows  about  him. 
It  is  cool  after  the  glare  of  the  sun.  He 
yawns,  stretches,  and  throws  himself  at  foot 
of  tree. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  EPISODE        79 

Franklin 

(musing  aloud). 

Of  all  the  strange  old  women!  (Looks  at  crystal 
again.)  A  pretty  toy,  truly!  All — shining — in — the 
— sun (Falls  asleep.) 

The  Old  Woman 

(stealing  back  for  a  moment  out  of  background,  and 
raising  cane  as  before). 

Dream!    Dream  deep! 

[Tosses  over  him  half  of  her  double  cloak,  then 
.nakes  her  exit  into  background,  with  finger 
on  lip,  and  disappears  from  view.  There  is 
a  pause  of  some  length,  during  which  dream 
music  is  played,  a  soft,  swaying  rhythm. 
Then  comes  the  Dream. 

SCENE  II 

PEOPLE  OF  THE  DREAM 

Dr.  Franklin,  the  statesman 
John  Adams 

Marie  Antoinette,  Queen  of  France 
The  Duchess  of  Bourbon 
Mademoiselle  de  Pernan 
Mademoiselle  de  Tressau 
Ladies  in  Waiting.     Pages.     Courtiers.     Rose  Minuet 
Dancers.    Shepherdesses  and  Milkmaids  from 
the  Petit  Trianon.     Little  Flower 
Girls.    Rose  Bearers. 


\ 

I 


80         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

The  setting  is  the  lawn  of  Versailles  on  a  Summer 
afternoon,  1781. 

There  are  trees  at  right,  left,  and  background.  The 
entrances  of  all  taking  part  in  the  scene  are  made  from 
middle  background. 

The  dream  music  of  the  previous  scene  having  ceased, 
a  stately  march  is  played  off  scene.  Queen  Marie 
Antoinette  enters,  her  train  held  by  four  little  pages  in 
white  satin.  She  is  followed  by  Miles,  de  Pernan 
and  de  Tressau,  who  wear  white  brocade  with  pale 
yellow  roses.  Following  them  comes  a  less  formal 
group,  ladies  in  waiting,  who  wear  dark  green  and 
silver-flowered  bodices  and  overskirts  over  still  darker 
green  quilted  petticoats:  amber  costumes  of  the  same, 
threaded  with  gold,  and  dark  purple  over  white  satin. 
The  Queen,  who  is  in  white,  with  a  long  train  of  scarlet 
velvet,  has  the  only  touch  of  scarlet  that  is  worn  in  the 
scene.  The  French  courtiers  are  in  flowered  coats 
with  buff,  blue  of  a  deep  shade,  and  white  and  amber- 
brown  predominating. 

The  Queen,  having  crossed  the  sward,  stands  at 
right,  and  the  Miles,  de  Pernan  and  de  Tressau 
stand  immediately  behind  her,  and  by  them  the  pages. 
A  little  further  back,  in  a  stately,  yet  not  too  formal  a 
semicircle,  stands  the  court.  Just  as  they  are  taking 
their  places  there  comes  from  the  background  a  sedan 
chair  borne  by  four  chairmen  in  black  velvet,  with  pow- 
dered wigs.  This  chair  is  set  down  in  center  of 
sward.  The  Duchess  of  Bourbon  alights:  approaches 
the  Queen,  courtesies  deeply  and  kisses  her  Majesty's 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  EPISODE        81 

hand.  Then  joins  the  group  behind  the  Queen.  The 
chair  is  carried  to  the  back  of  the  group  during  this 
ceremony. 

Music  off -scene  plays  "  Hail  Columbia  "  and  Frank- 
lin and  Adams  appear  from  background,  Adams  fol- 
lowing Franklin.  Benjamin  Franklin  is  in  black,  with 
unpowdered  hair.  His  famous  spectacles  are  on  his 
nose.  The  Queen  extends  her  hand,  over  which  he 
bows.  Adams,  with  three-cornered  hat  on  breast,  bows 
just  behind  him. 

Queen. 

You  horor  France  in  honoring  us  by  your  presence, 
Dr.  Franklin.  Mr.  Adams,  we  greet  you,  not  only 
because  you  come  from  America,  but  because  you  are 
the  friend  of  wisdom  and  sagacity. 

Franklin 
(bowing  low:  ditto  Adams). 
Your  Majesty  does  us  too  much  honor! 

Queen. 
The  honor  we  do  you  to-day  is  to  be  gay,  festive, 
joyous.  We  have  delighted  to  plan  a  fete  for  your 
pleasure  wherein  you  shall  behold  Versailles  and 
Trianon,  court  ladies,  milkmaids,  shepherdesses!  But, 
first,  the  verses! 

[According  to  the  custom  of  eighteenth-century 
France  in  honoring  a  philosopher,  the  Miles, 
de  Pernan  and  de  Tressau  face  Franklin  and 
the  Queen,  courtesy  deeply,  recite  a  verse, 
courtesy  again,  and  return  to  their  places. 


82         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Mlle.  de  Pernan. 

"  We  come  to  honor,  one  by  one, 
Benjamin  Franklin,  Freedom's  son, 
Who  comes  to  us  from  oversea, 
Champion  of  light  and  liberty." 

Mlle.  de  Tressau. 

"  Learned  and  just,  benignant,  wise, 
You  draw  the  lightning  from  the  skies: 
Printer  and  Statesman — here  we  see 
What  man  through  his  own  wit  may  be !  " 

[Throughout  the  revels  that  follow  the  Queen 
and  Benjamin  Franklin  stand  at  right,  while 
the  dancers  enter  from  left  background.  As 
soon  as  one  group  has  finished  dancing,  center, 
they  move  to  the  left,  and  stand  in  a  line 
facing  Franklin  and  the  Queen.  Thus  color 
is  added  to  color,  till  the  whole  has  a  rainbow 
effect. 

The  first  group  to  enter  is  the  pale-violet  group, 
ladies-in-ivaiting,  who  wear  pale-violet  bodices 
and  overdresses  over  white.  They  dance  a 
gavotte,  and  retire  to  a  line  at  left.  The 
stage  on  which  the  dancing  is  done  must 
afford  ample  space,  so  that  there  is  no 
crowding. 

The  second  group  enters.  Court  ladies  in  pale- 
yellow    bodices  and   looped   overdresses   over 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  EPISODE        83 

white.  They  dance  a  gavotte,  and  then  stand 
at  left  of  stage. 

The  third  group  enters.  Young  maids  of  the 
court,  dressed  as  shepherdesses.  Pale  sea- 
foam-green  bodices  and  overdresses  over  white. 
White  crooks,  with  pale-green  satin  streamers 
fastened  to  them.  They  dance  a  minuet,  and 
retire  to  left. 

The  fourth  group  enters.  Young  maids  of  the 
court  dressed  as  milkmaids.  Pale-blue 
bodices  and  looped-up  overdresses  over  white. 
Each  milkmaid  carries  a  small  white,  wooden 
.nil king-pail.  They  dance  a  minuet,  and  re- 
tire to  left. 

The  fifth  group  enters  for  the  Rose  Minuet. 
First  come  ten  little  girls  walking  two  and 
two.  They  wear  bodices  and  overdresses  of 
the  very  palest  pink,  flowered  with  deep-pink 
roses.  Their  fichus  and  petticoats  are  white. 
Each  couple  carries  between  them  a  half- 
hoop  of  pink  roses.  When  they  come  to  a 
halt  the  rose  hoops,  held  high,  form  a  rose 
bower  through  which  the  rose-dancers  ap- 
proach.  They  are  maids  of  the  court,  who. 
wear  rose-pink  bodices  and  overdresses  over 
white.  Wreaths  of  tiny  pink  rosebuds  on 
their  powdered  hair.  With  the  little  girls 
with  rose  hoops  forming  figures  and  groups  in 
the  center  of  the  sward,  the  minuet  dancers 
go  through  a  minuet  ivhich  should  differ  from 


84         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

the  other  minuets,  its  figures  being  somewhat 
more  elaborate  and  complicated. 
The  final  figure  of  this  fete  should  be  a  huge 
minuet,  with  the  rose-dancers  in  the  center 
of  the  sward,  the  other  dancers  joining  in. 
After  a  figure  or  two,  the  tempo  of  the  music 
should  change,  and  the  dancers,  headed  by 
those  who  have  done  the  rose  minuet,  should 
march  off  the  field  into  the  background. 
First  the  pink  group,  then  the  blue  group, 
then  the  green,  yellow,  and  violet  groups. 
With  the  same  march  music  still  sounding, 
the  Queen  and  Franklin,  followed  in  stately 
fashion  by  the  court,  should  leave  the  field, 
and  thus  end  the  scene. 

COSTUMES 

The  costumes  of  the  first  scene  have  already  been  in- 
dicated in  the  text.  That  of  the  crystal-gazer  can  be 
made  of  cambric,  with  the  glazed  side  turned  inward. 
Her  cap  and  kerchief  should  be  of  white  lawn. 

Costumes  in  Scene  II 

Marie  Antoinette.  White  satin  petticoat.  Over- 
dress and  bodice  of  white  silk  brocaded  with  scarlet 
roses.  White  lace  ruffles  and  fichu.  Long  train  of 
scarlet  velvet,  lined  in  white  satin.  Hair  dressed  high 
and  powdered.  Gold  crown.  Shimmering  necklace. 
If  a  costume  as  ornate  as  this  is  not  procurable,  let 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  EPISODE        85 

the  young  player  wear  a  long  white  muslin  dress  that 
just  touches  below  the  ankle.  A  bodice  and  over- 
dress of  white  cretonne  flowered  with  red  roses.  White 
lawn  fichu  with  ruffles.  A  long  train  of  scarlet  cam- 
bric with  the  glazed  side  turned  outward  to  represent 
satin.  This  is  lined  in  white  cambric  which  should 
also  be  satiny-looking.  The  train  is  fastened  at  the 
shoulders,  and  borne  by  two  pages.  Crown  and  jewels 
of  gold  and  silver  paper.  White  slippers  and  stockings. 
Brilliant  buckles. 

Franklin.  Suit  of  plain  black  velvet.  Vest  of 
black  satin.  Stockings  and  low  shoes  of  black.  Three- 
cornered  black  hat  which  he  holds  under  his  arm. 
His  hair  falls  to  his  collar,  and  is  unpowdered.  A 
pair  of  square  spectacles  on  his  nose. 

Adams.  Suit  of  plum-colored  velvet,  trimmed  with 
gold  lace.  White  satin  waistcoat.  White  stock,  and 
lace  jabot,  and  sleeve-ruffles.  Black  shoes  with  gold 
buckles.  Black  stockings.  White  powdered  wig  worn 
in  a  cue. 

With  the  other  costumes,  cretonne  and  cheese- 
cloth can  be  substituted  for  silk  and  satin;  but  the 
color  scheme  that  has  been  already  described  should  be 
strictly  adhered  to.  The  Miles,  de  Pernan  and  de 
Tressau  should  wear  white  dresses,  with  looped-up 
paniers  of  white  cretonne  flowered  in  yellow.  The 
Duchess  of  Bourbon,  a  white  dress  with  looped  paniers 
of  pale  blue,  flowered  in  pink.  White  fichu  and  ruffles. 
Very  inexpensive  yet  effective  costumes  can  be  made  for 
the  dancers  by   having  each   girl  wear  a  white  dress 


86         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

that  comes  below  the  knee.  Over  this  dress  may  be 
worn  a  deep  girdle  of  cheesecloth  of  a  solid  color. 
Then  looped-up  paniers  of  cheesecloth  of  the  same  color 
at  each  side.  A  white  fichu  of  cheesecloth  or  lawn  may 
be  worn  with  this  costume,  and  all  the  girls  taking 
part  in  the  dances  should  have  their  hair  powdered,  and 
worn  in  a  pompadour  fashion.  White  shoes  and  stock- 
ings for  all  the  dancers.  Older  girls  taking  part  should 
wear  their  dresses  ankle-length.  If  a  more  satiny 
look  than  cheesecloth  gives  is  wished,  let  the  overdresses 
be  of  light-colored  cambric  with  the  glazed  side  turned 
outward.  Cheesecloth  is  the  softest,  most  pliable  ma- 
terial, and   the  most  easily  managed. 

The  dancers  who  carry  the  rose  hoops  should  wear 
pale-pink  cretonne  flowered  in  deeper  pink.  The  rose 
hoops  may  be  made  of  ordinary  hoops  of  a  good  size  cut 
in  half,  covered  with  green  cheesecloth,  and  then 
decorated  with  pink  paper  roses,  put  on  so  thickly  that 
the  green  is  almost  hidden. 

The  pages  and  sedan  chair-bearers  wear  black  velvet, 
with  black  waistcoats  and  white  neck-pieces  and  ruffles. 
Black  stockings  and  low  black  shoes.  Hair  powdered 
and  worn  in  a  cue.  Black  suits,  basted  back  to  give 
the  effect  of  an  eighteenth-century  coat,  white  neck- 
cloth and  ruffles  of  lawn  will  make  good  substitutes 
for  the  more  ornate  costume.  For  the  white  wigs,  a 
tight-fitting  skull-cap  of  white  muslin.  Basted  to  this 
w  bite  cotton  batting,  shaped  to  fit  the  head,  and  hav- 
ing a  cue  in  the  back  tied  with  black  velvet  ribbon. 
For  the  sedan  chair,  if  a  real  sedan  chair  cannot  be 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  EPISODE        87 

had,  have  a  chair  fastened  to  a  stout  platform  of  wood. 
Handles  for  the  bearers  to  hold  should  be  fastened 
to  the  chair.  A  boxed-in  canopy  of  heavy  white  card- 
board covers  this,  the  cardboard  fastened  to  a  light 
framework.  Over  the  cardboard  should  be  pasted  pale- 
yellow  wallpaper,  or  white-flowered  wallpaper.  The 
inside  of  the  chair  should  be  covered  in  flowered 
cretonne.  The  handles  should  be  gilded. 
Music  (for  band,  orchestra,  or  piano)  : 

For  the  Dream  Music:  Minuet,  by  L.  Boccherini 
Gavotte:  Gavotte  Favorite  de  Marie  Antoinette 

(1774),  by  Charles  Neustedt. 
Minuet:  Minuet  from  Don  Juan,  by  Mozart. 


ABRAHAM   LINCOLN   EPISODE 

LINCOLN  CABIN  SCENE 

CHARACTERS 

Abraham  Lincoln 
Nancy  Lincoln 
John  Lincoln 
Amy  Roby 
Tom  Bush 

Francois,  a  young  French-Canadian 
Andrew  Smith,  a  fiddler 

Red  Plume,  the  chieftain  of  a  small  Indian  tribe 
Dark  Cloud,  an  Indian  brave 
Sky-of-Dawn,  an  Indian  maiden 
Other  young  people,  friends  of  Lincoln,  Indian  braves, 

Indian  maidens 

Scene:  A  clearing  beyond  the  Lincoln  cabin,  Little 
Creek,  Indiana,  1823. 

When  the  boys  and  girls  who  are  to  take  part  in  the 
outdoor  merrymaking  begin  to  appear,  it  is  seen  that 
the  boys  wear  moccasins,  and  buckskin  is  bound  in 
strappings  to  their  knees.  They  wear,  for  the  most  part, 
dark  knee-breeches.  Their  shirts  are  dark-blue,  dark- 
red,  and  dark-plum  flannel — any  dark  flannel  shirt  will 

88 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  EPISODE         89 

do.  These  shirts  are  open  at  the  neck,  and  a  gay 
handkerchief  is  twisted  about  them,  tied  with  loose 
ends.  Franqois  betrays  his  French  ancestry  by  a  red 
sash  tied  at  the  side. 

The  girls  wear  short  dark  calico,  homespun,  or  wool- 
len dresses  of  solid  color,  dark-blue,  dark-brown,  dark- 
gray.  These  dresses  should  have  square  necks,  which 
show  the  throat.  The  dresses  themselves  are  not  much 
seen,  because  each  girl  wears  an  old-fashioned  cloak, 
gathered  at  the  neck,  and  falling  to  the  edge  of  the 
dress.  The  cloaks  are  gay  in  color — forest-green,  red, 
bright  blue;  in  shape  something  like  the  well-known 
'  Shaker  "  cloaks.  Some  of  the  cloaks  have  hoods  that 
lend  an  air  of  quaintness.  Several  of  the  girls  wear 
bead  chains,  evidently  the  work  of  their  own  fingers. 

The  scene  opens  with  the  entrance  of  Nancy  and 
John  Lincoln,  and  Tom  Bush.  The  rest  follow  from 
background.  It  is  evident  from  their  attire  and  smil- 
ing faces  that  this  is  a  gala  occasion.  Tom  Bush  car- 
ries a  kettle  to  right,  near  a  fallen  log.  Then  he  and 
the  other  boys  kindle  a  fire,  erect  a  rude  tripod,  and 
swing  the  kettle  not  far  from  where  the  log  lies.  Much 
business  of  blowing,  lighting,  etc.  A  battered  tin 
coffee-pot  is  produced,  ready  for  making  the  coffee. 

Tom  Bush 

(calling   back   over  his   shoulder,   as  the   preparations 

begin). 

Come,  Nancy,  we've  found  a  fine  place  to  swing  the 
kettle. 


go        THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Amy  Roby 

(at  right,  stooping  over  basket). 

And  here's  a  splendid  spot  for  unpacking  the  baskets! 

[Nancy  Lincoln  runs  first  to  the  fire,  to  see 
how  the  work  is  going  forward,  and  then  re- 
turns to  Amy,  who  is  busily  unpacking 
baskets,  with  the  assistance  of  the  other  girls. 
Nancy  takes  some  of  the  contents  of  the 
baskets,  and  then  hurries  to  Tom  Bush  with 
them. 

Nancy  Lincoln. 

Here  are  some  potatoes  and  corn-dodgers  to  put  on 
the  ashes. 

Francois 

(to  Andrew  Smith). 

It  is  mos'  time  that  you  had  better  be  tuning  up  your 
fiddle,  Andrew! 

Amy  Roby 

(to  Nancy,  who  stands  center,  shielding  her  eyes,  and 
looking  towards  background). 

Isn't  Abe  coming? 

Nancy  Lincoln 

(shaking  her  head). 

No,  Abe  isn't  even  in  sight  yet.     But  he'll  surely  be 
here  as  soon  as  he  has  finished  splitting  those  rails. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  EPISODE         91 

One  of  the  Little  Girls 
(joyfully). 
Andrew  is  beginning  to  play! 

[Andrew  Smith's  fiddle  gives  out  the  first 
notes  of  a  reel.  Those  who  are  bending  at 
their  various  occupations  begin  to  nod  and 
trip.  In  an  instant  everything  is  dropped, 
and  the  young  people  are  all  for  merriment. 
They  begin,  center  of  sward,  a  grand  right 
and  left.  Andrew  Smith  stands  at  right  fid- 
dling with  the  greatest  possible  gusto. 
'As  *he  dance  ends,  Andrew  Smith  points  with 
his  fiddle-bow  to  a  figure  seen  approaching 
from  the  background,  a  tall,  lank,  kindly- 
faced  boy,  dressed  like  the  others  but  with  an 
ax  over  his  shoulder. 

All 

(with  a  loud  cry — intense  delight — at  the  very  top  of 

their  lungs). 

Lincoln!     Abe  Lincoln! 

[They    run    to    meet    him.     He    comes    down 
center  with  an  admiring  group  on  each  side, 

Nancy  Lincoln 
(looking  up  at  Abe). 
It  wasn't  really  a  holiday  till  you  came. 

[Lincoln  smiles  at  her,  and  then  turns  to  Tom 
Bush. 


92         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Lincoln 

(as  he  and  Nancy  and  Tom  Bush  form  a  group  at  fire: 

the  rest  up  stage,  left). 

What  have  you  been  doing,  Tom? 

Tom  Bush. 

Fixing  the  fire,  and  now  I'm  going  to  see  about  get- 
ting the  right  sort  of  wood  for  the  floor  of  a  squirrel- 
cage.     I  caught  a  squirrel  yesterday,  and  I Oh, 

I  forgot!  You  wouldn't  be  interested  in  that.  You 
said  yesterday  that  if  you  were  me  you  would  let  the 
squirrel  go. 

Lincoln 

(looking  straight  before  him  to  something  far  beyond 
the  narrow  world  of  Little  Creek). 

I  don't  like  to  see  things  in  cages:  I  like  to  see  'em 
free.     I  believe  in  freedom  for  everything  living! 

Amy  Roby. 

(breaking  in  upon  the  group). 

Come,  Tom,  there's  another  dance  beginning! 

[Lincoln  sits  on  log,  near  fire,  and  begins  to 
roast  some  ears  of  corn  which  the  boys  have 
stacked  near  by.  The  young  people  beckon 
Lincoln.  He  shakes  his  head,  watches  them, 
smiling.  A  Virginia  Reel  is  started  at  left. 
Lincoln,  who  is  still  seated  on  log,  and  those 
who  are  dancing  the  reel,  are  so  absorbed 
that  they  are  oblivious  of  a  group  of  Indians 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  EPISODE         93 

stalking  down  from  right.  The  Indians 
draw  near  to  Lincoln,  and  stand  motionless, 
watching  the  dance,  their  beads  and  head- 
gear glittering  in  the  sun,  their  blankets  a 
brilliant  blotch  of  color  against  the  green. 
When  the  dance  ends,  Lincoln  and  his  com- 
panions are  aware  of  the  Indians.  But  the  In- 
dians, although  their  desire  is  to  trade  the  skins 
and  furs  they  are  carrying,  cross  to  left,  feign- 
ing entire  indifference,  and  seat  themselves  in 
a  semicircle.  Red  Plume  in  passing  Lincoln 
has  given  him  a  grave  "Howl*  to  which 
Lincoln  has  returned  "Howl'  with  equal 
gravity.  The  settlers  stand  in  a  group  at 
right,  a  little  towards  the  background,  watch- 
ing the  Indians.  The  Indians  continue  to  sit 
in  a  grave  circle.  An  old  Indian  smokes. 
Two  of  the  Indian  maidens  appear  to  chatter. 
Finally  Dark  Cloud  rises  with  a  bundle  of 
skins  in  his  hand.  The  young  settlers  come 
down  to  right  foreground.  Dark  Cloud  puts 
the  bundle  of  skins  on  the  ground.  Asks 
them,  by  gesture:  "  What  will  they  give1?  * 
Tom  Bush  offers  a  penknife  for  one  of  the 
skins.  Dark  Cloud  stands  with  arms 
haughtily  folded.  Tom  Bush  adds  a  gay 
handkerchief  to  the  penknife.  Dark  Cloud 
shakes  his  head,  and  stalks  back  to  his  circle. 
Sits  with  his  brother  Indians.  Much  con- 
ferring and  shaking  of  heads.     Equal  panto- 


94         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

mime  on  part  of  settlers.  Lincoln  is  keenly 
watching  the  scene,  but  still  apart  from  it  all. 
Suddenly  Red  Plume  rises  and,  with  slow 
dignity,  approaches  Lincoln. 


How! 
How! 


Red  Plume. 
Lincoln. 


Red  Plume 
{with  indicatory  pantomime). 

Red   Plume  know  Lincoln.     Lincoln  heap  square. 
Lincoln  heap  just.     Honest  Abe  decide. 

[Lincoln  rises,  and  comes  to  center  foreground. 
Dark  Cloud  rises  from  his  circle  and  brings 
skins.  He  stands  at  Lincoln  s  left.  The 
other  Indians  rise  slowly,  cross,  and  stand 
behind  Dark  Cloud.  At  Lincoln's  right 
stands  Tom  Bush,  and  back  of  Tom  Bush  the 
youthful  settlers.  They  have  gathered  to- 
gether things  they  wish  to  trade,  such  as  a 
fine  blanket  that  was  brought  with  the  pic- 
nic blankets,  hatchets,  etc.  Tom  Bush  is  the 
first  to  start  the  trading.  He  adds  to  the  hand- 
kerchief and  penknife  which  he  showed  be- 
fore a  small  hatchet.  Both  Dark  Cloud  and 
Tom  Bush,  after  they  have  laid  their  pos- 
sessions on  the  grass,  look  at  Lincoln.  Lin- 
coln nods.  The  trade  is  made.  Through  all 
that  folloius  Lincoln  stands  center,  as  a  court 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  EPISODE         95 

of  appeal.  No  trades  are  consummated  until 
he  has  given  the  signal  of  an  affirmative  nod. 

The  Indians  offer  furs  of  various  descriptions. 

Franqois  trades  off  his  red  sash  to  Red  Plume. 

Amy  Roby  trades  her  chain  of  beads  for  an  In- 
dian basket. 

Red  Plume  signifies  interest  in  Andrew  Smith's 
fiddle.  He  takes  it  up.  At  this  the  Indian 
maidens  laugh  amongst  themselves.  Red 
Plume  tries  the  fiddle.  It  makes  a  very 
hideous  squeak.  At  this  two  of  the  Indian 
maidens  laugh  outright.  But  Red  Plume 
continues  to  be  enamored  of  the  instrument. 
He  offers  to  exchange  more  and  more  skins 
for  the  fiddle,  but  Andrew  Smith  shakes  his 
head.  So  no  trade  is  made.  Red  Plume  re- 
luctantly relinquishes  the  fiddle.  A  back- 
woods lad  trades  off  a  blanket  for  some  of 
Red  Plume's  furs,  and  the  chieftain  appears 
mollified.  Now  that  the  trading  is  over  both 
settlers  and  Indians  appear  to  be  pleased  with 
their  possessions.  Through  all  that  has 
transpired,  Lincoln  has  been  the  central 
figure,  appealed  to  again  and  again.  The  In- 
dians solemnly  exeunt  with  their  new  posses- 
sions  towards  background. 

Nancy  Lincoln 
(turning  to  Abe). 
You  don't  know  how  proud  I  am  to  hear  them  call 


96         THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

you  "  Honest  Abe."     I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  some- 
day you  did  something  wonderful  and  splendid! 

Lincoln 
(smiling  at  her  enthusiasm). 
"  Someday 's  "  a  long  way  off,  Nancy! 

Nancy  Lincoln 

(with  conviction). 

Well,  I  believe  that  even  if  a  boy  is  poor,  and  was 
born  in  a  cabin,  if  he's  as  honest  and  hard-working  as 
you  are,  Abe,  he's  sure  to  come  out  finely.  Now,  let's 
go  home ! 

[Lincoln,  ax  on  shoulder,  exits  towards  middle 
background,  Nancy  and  John  and  all  the  rest 
following,  with   the  fiddler  playing  gaily. 

The  merrymaking  is  over,  the  grassy  stage  is 
left  vacant,  and  the  scene  ends. 

COSTUMES 

The  costumes  for  the  young  settlers  have  already 
been  indicated  in  the  episode  itself.  Francois,  the  young 
French-Canadian,  wears  a  cotton  khaki  suit,  cut  on 
Indian  lines.  That  is,  the  breeches  of  the  suit  are 
fringed,  and  he  wears  moccasins.  He  wears  a  tan 
shirt,  open  at  the  neck,  and  a  scarlet  sash  belt. 

The  costumes  for  the  Indians  are  of  cotton  khaki, 
cut  on  simple  Indian  lines.  (See  description  of  Indian 
costumes  of  "  Princess  Pocahontas.")     Gay  painting  at 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  EPISODE         97 

neck.  Beads.  Shells.  Wampum.  The  Indian  maid- 
ens and  some  of  the  braves  have  blankets.  They  should 
be  striped  in  gay  colors — red  and  green,  orange  and 
blue — the  stripes  very  wide.  A  few  blankets  of  solid 
color.  Long  pipes  for  the  Indians  to  smoke.  Head- 
dresses of  brown  and  gray  feathers.  Dark  Cloud  wears 
a  black  feather  head-dress.  Red  Plume  wears  a  head- 
dress of  brilliant  scarlet  feathers. 


LIBERTY   DANCE 

This  dance  is  for  a  pageant  given  on  a  very  large 
scale.  It  is  formed  of  commingled  groups  of  the  young 
people  of  all  nations,  and  is  symbolic  of  the  Old  World 
coming  to  the  New.  The  peasant  costumes  of  Ger- 
many, Russia,  Italy,  Ireland,  Scotland,  France  and 
Sweden  should  be  worn,  and  the  dances  should  be  the 
folk  dances  of  the  various  nations,  with  their  appropri- 
ate music. 


98 


PAGEANT  DIRECTIONS 

Care  should  be  taken  in  choosing  the  pageant  site. 
The  actual  stage  should  be  a  level  sward,  with  close- 
clipped  grass  that  will  make  it  as  easy  as  possible  for 
the  dancers.  It  is  ideal  if  the  background  and  sides 
of  this  stage  can  be  picturesquely  wooded,  and  present 
a  vista  through  which  the  pageant  players  can  be  seen 
approaching.  It  will  be  well  if  the  pageant  stage  itself 
has  a  tree  or  so.  This  stage  should  vary  in  size  ac- 
cording to  the  number  of  people  in  the  cast.  A  small 
cast  requires  a  smaller  and  more  intimate  stage.  In 
this  way  scenes  in  which  a  crowd  of  supernumeraries 
are  needed  will  give  the  effect  of  having  more  people 
than  are  actually  there.  On  the  other  hand,  a  large 
stage  is  needed  for  big  effects,  where  a  great  number 
of  people  are  used.  Too  small  a  stage  makes  a  great 
number  of  players  seem  a  huddled  mass,  and  through 
this  pantomimic  effects  are  lost. 

The  pageant  players  should,  if  possible,  have  the  sun 
at  the  side.  It  is  very  difficult  to  play  facing  a 
strong  light.  Choice  of  the  time  of  day  in  which 
the  pageant  is  given  has  much  to  do  with  its  effective- 
ness. Late  afternoon  (from  four  o'clock  on)  is  by  far 
the  best  time  for  outdoor  drama.  The  earlier  hours  are 
somewhat   garish, — the   light   too   high,   the  contrasts 

99 


ioo       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

too  sharp  and  unvaried.  But  from  four  o'clock  on  the 
light  mellows,  the  shadows  become  long  and  sweeping, 
the  outdoor  effects  grow  more  and  more  beautiful.  It 
is  as  if  the  first  hint  of  sunset  were  the  signal  for 
ringing  down  a  magic  curtain  on  a  scene  where  nature 
herself  was  pageant  mistress.  This  is  true  of  all  out- 
door plays  as  well  as  pageants. 

Those  who  direct  the  pageant  should  see  to  it  that 
the  youthful  players  make  a  finished  exit;  that  is,  that 
one  scene  and  set  of  players  disappear  entirely  from 
view  before  another  set  of  players  begin  to  come  on. 
Off  stage  the  players  should  be  in  groups,  arranged 
in  the  order  in  which  they  are  to  appear,  so  that  as 
one  group  leaves  the  stage,  the  next  is  ready  to  ap- 
pear, and  confusion  is  avoided.  No  talk  should  be  al- 
lowed off  stage.  On  a  still  Summer  day  sounds  carry: 
a  murmur  is  confusing  to  the  players. 

The  players  should  not  be  dependent  on  words  alone 
for  their  cues.  Very  often  a  word  may  fail  to  carry 
out  of  doors ;  but  a  gesture  can  always  be  seen.  There- 
fore, gesture  cues  can  be  used  at  many  of  the  climaxes. 
These  cues  can  be  quite  simple  and  natural,  and  while 
perfectly  understandable  to  the  players  themselves,  need 
not  be  at  all  obvious  to  the  audience.  The  players 
and  their  director  can  decide  upon  the  cues,  and  will 
find  them  of  immense  help.  Thus,  by  an  upraised  arm, 
or  by  tossing  back  a  braid  of  her  hair,  Pocahontas  can 
signal  to  Powhatan  that  her  talk  with  John  Smith  is 
finished.  Washington  shielding  his  eyes  with  his  hand 
can  be  a  signal  to  Carey  that  it  is  time  for  him  to 


PAGEANT  DIRECTIONS  '•  161 

enter,  etc.,  etc.  Of  course,  in  many  cases  the  ending  or 
beginning  of  a  dance,  or  the  entrance  of  some  principal 
character  will  be  cue  enough  in  itself. 

In  the  final  procession  (if  the  players  choose  to  have 
a  procession),  The  Spirit  of  Patriotism  should  march 
first,  and  behind  her  should  follow  the  other  players  in 
the  order  of  their  scenes.  This  preserves  the  order  of 
the  epochs  also,  and  makes  an  excellent  color  scheme — 
the  tawny  yellows  and  reds  of  the  Indian  garb,  the 
dark  Puritan  costumes,  the  pinks  and  blues  of  the 
Colonial  period  as  against  the  more  somber  colors  of 
the  settler's  homespun,  etc.,  etc.  In  order  to  give  such 
a  procession  its  full  effect  it  should  not  seem  too  stiff 
and  premeditated.  Let  some  of  the  players  march  two 
and  two,  and  then  have  some  important  character  walk- 
ing alone.  Sometimes  it  may  be  possible  to  have  a 
group  of  three,  or  a  tall  young  player  with  two  smaller 
and  younger  players,  following  her.  Or  again  a  line 
of  Indians  single  file.  The  properties  should  be  car- 
ried in  the  procession  to  add  to  its  effectiveness.  The 
canoe,  as  if  it  were  still  a  matter  of  portage ;  the  sedan 
chair  of  the  Duchess  of  Bourbon ;  the  Indian  war-drum 
used  in  "  Princess  Pocahontas,"  etc.,  etc.  Needless  to  say 
these  properties  are  carried  in  the  group  and  epoch  in 
which  they  belong.  If  the  pageant  is  given  on  a  very 
large  scale  which  includes  the  Liberty  Dance  at  the 
end,  all  those  who  took  part  in  the  dance  should  form 
the  end  of  the  procession.  There  should  be  a  space  be- 
tween them  and  the  last  of  the  settlers,  as  there  is  be- 
tween the  past  and  the  present.     In  this  space  should 


Wl       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

walk  a  figure  symbolizing  Hope  and  Joy — a  young  girl 
in  draperies  of  the  palest  green,  and  hair  bound  with  a 
Greek  fillet.  In  her  hands  she  carries  a  great  laurel 
wreath. 

When  the  Pageant  of  Patriots  had  its  first  produc- 
tion in  Prospect  Park,  Brooklyn,  the  youthful  players 
marched  around  the  great  oval  outside  which  the  audi- 
ence sat,  and  having  circled  it  once,  marched  off  the 
scene.  If,  however,  the  future  producers  of  this 
pageant  wish  to  reverse  this  order,  it  can  easily  be 
done,  by  having  the  march  end  in  the  final  tableau. 
It  is  merely  a  matter  of  choice. 

In  the  Final  Tableau  The  Spirit  of  Patriotism 
should  stand  on  the  stage  in  the  middle  foreground, 
center,  and  grouped  about  her  should  be  the  young 
folk  of  the  various  centuries.  This  scene  should  be 
well  mapped  out  and  rehearsed  beforehand,  so  that  the 
ensemble  will  be  splendidly  significant  and  glowing  in 
its  effect,  and  there  should  be  no  clashes  in  the  color 
scheme.  The  notes  of  "  America "  should  be  sung 
with  tremendous  fervor  and  power. 

In  many  cases  the  pageant  will,  of  necessity,  have  to 
be  rehearsed  indoors.  Outdoor  places  to  rehearse  in 
are  not  always  obtainable,  nor  weather  always  pro- 
pitious; moreover,  with  young  people  the  out-of-doors 
has  too  many  distractions.  Armories  or  halls  are  ex- 
cellent places  to  rehearse  in;  so  are  gymnasiums.  The 
episodes  should  be  rehearsed  separately.  Rehearsing  in 
a  small  room  is  fatal.  It  gives  the  youthful  performers 
a  tendency  to  huddle,  from  which  they  seldom  recover. 


PAGEANT  DIRECTIONS  103 

Their  motions  are  cramped,  and  they  lose  all  sweep  and 
freedom.  There  should  be  understudies  for  all  the 
principal  parts,  and  there  must  be  at  least  one  full-dress 
rehearsal.  The  ages  of  the  young  people  taking  part  in 
the  pageant  should  be  from  eight  to  eighteen.  The 
principal  parts  will,  of  course,  be  intrusted  to  the 
older  boys  and  girls  where  the  occasion  demands.  John 
Smith,  Powhatan,  and  others  need  a  certain  amount  of 
height  and  dignity. 

The  number  of  young  people  taking  part  in  The 
Pageant  of  Patriotism  will  be  determined  by  circum- 
stances. From  two  hundred  to  five  hundred  young 
people  may  take  part  in  it. 

It  should  be  kept  in  mind  that  a  Children's  or 
Young  People's  pageant  differs  widely  from  a  pageant 
given  by  older  actors.  It  should  have  about  it  an  at- 
mosphere of  entire  simplicity.  There  should  be  no 
striving  for  effect.  Naivete  is  to  be  desired  rather 
than  ornateness.  Scenes  filled  with  crowds  of  young 
players  should  alternate  with  scenes  where  solitary  little 
figures  appeal  by  their  quaint  remoteness,  their  sug- 
gestion of  innocence  and  candor.  The  Pageant  of 
Patriots  is  not  only  a  pageant  of  country  but  of  life's 
springtime,  and  interwoven  with  its  episodes  should 
be  the  glamor  of  the  youth  of  the  world. 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

(Indoor) 


THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

(Arrangement  of  Indoor  Episodes) 

i.  Prologue  by  the  Spirit  of  Patriotism 

2.  Dramatic  Silhouette:  Lords  of  the  Forest 

3.  The  Coming  of  the  White  Man  (Tableau) 

4.  Princess  Pocahontas 

5.  Priscilla  Mullins  (Tableau) 

6.  Benjamin  Franklin,  Journeyman 

7.  George  Washington's  Fortune 

8.  The  Boston  Tea  Party 

9.  Dramatic  Silhouette:  The  Spirit  of  '76 

10.  Abraham  Lincoln:  Rail-Splitter 

11.  Final  Tableau 

12.  Procession  of  Players 


PROLOGUE 

Spoken  by  The  Spirit  of  Patriotism 

People  of ,  ye  who  come  to  see 

Enacted  here  some  hours  of  Pageantry, 
Lend  us  your  patfence  for  each  simple  truth, 
And  see  portrayed  for  you  the  Nation's  Youth. 
Into  times  dim  and  far  I  bid  you  gaze, 
Down  the  long  vista  of  departed  days, 
Of  hope  and  aspiration,  woe  and  weal, 
Famine  and  hardship,  strife  and  patriot  zeal. 
Back  further  still  our  march  of  years  shall  go 
To  times  primeval :  The  first  scene  will  show 
In  shadow  silhouette  the  sagamore, 
The  braves  and  chieftains  of  the  days  of  yore, 
Lords  of  the  forest,  kings  of  stream  and  hill, 
Of  trail  and  wigwam:  masters  of  the  kill! 
The  white  man's  coming  next — while  curiously 
A  youthful  Indian,  pausing,  peers  to  see 
What  strangers  tread  the  shores  that  he  calls  home, 
What  white-winged  ships  have  braved  the  wild  sea- 
foam. 
Prows  of  the  Norsemen,  etched  against  the  blue! 
Helmets  agleam!     Faces  of  wind-bronzed  hue! 

107 


108       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

On  roll  the  years,  and  in  a  forest  green 

The  Princess  Pocahontas  next  is  seen; 

And  then  in  prim  white  cap  and  somber  gown 

Lovely  Priscilla,  Maid  o'  Plymouth  Town. 

Benjamin  Franklin  supping  at  an  Inn, 

A  'prentice  lad  with  all  his  world  to  win. 

Then  Washington  encamped  before  a  blaze 

O'  fagots,  swiftly  learning  woodland  ways. 

Next  the  brave  times  of  1773 

When  Boston  folk  would  pay  no  tax  on  tea. 

And  then  with  urge  of  fife  and  roll  of  drum 

In  shadow  silhouette  behold  them  come — 

The  Patriot  lads  who  for  their  country  died, 

Who  rose  and  followed  when  my  name  was  cried — ! 

Leaving  the  farm  and  forge  and  village  street — 

Our  hearts  still  echo  to  those  marching  feet! 

Spirit  of  '76!     Thy  deathless  fame 

Burns  for  us  yet,  a  sacrificial  flame! 

Years  pass.     Behold  a  cabin  in  the  West 

Where  on  an  Autumn  night,  with  mirth  and  zest, 

Lincoln's  companions  take  their  simple  cheer. 

These  are  the  scenes  to  be  enacted  here. 

Shown  to  you  straightway  in  a  simple  guise : 

Youthful  the  scenes  that  we  shall  here  devise 

On  which  the  beads  of  history  are  strung. 

Remember  that  our  players,  too,  are  young. 

All  critic  knowledge,  then,  behind  you  leave, 

And  in  the  spirit  of  the  day  receive 

What  we  would  give,  and  let  there  come  to  you 

The  Joy  of  Youth,  with  purpose  high  and  true. 


DRAMATIC  SILHOUETTE:  LORDS 
OF  THE  FOREST 

A  white  curtain  of  sheeting,  or  other  similar  ma- 
terial. A  strong  light  placed  behind  the  curtain 
throws  into  high  relief  the  figures  as  they  pass  in 
significant  procession.  They  are  shadow  silhouettes  of 
a  time  long  gone,  of  a  race  who  now  are  shadows.  Care 
should  be  taken  that  they  move  in  exactly  the  right 
space,  so  that  the  shadows  will  not  vary  greatly  in 
height  or  in  bulk.  First  a  chieftain  passes,  wonderful 
in  feathers.  Next  a  young  brave,  who,  standing  alone 
a  moment,  tries  the  taut  string  of  his  bow.  Next  an 
Indian  maid,  with  a  basket  poised  on  her  head.  Then 
two  young  braves  with  fish  slung  on  a  pole  between 
them.  Then  a  group  of  Indian  maidens.  An  Indian 
child  or  two.  A  squaw  with  fagots  on  her  back. 
Another  with  a  papoose.  Then  two  Indians  with  a 
canoe,  representing  the  portage  of  a  canoe.  Then  a 
final  group  of  young  braves.  The  music,  which  begins 
as  the  chief  passes,  continues  throughout  the  procession 
until  the  last  Indian  has  passed,  then  ebbs  and  dies, 
growing  fainter  and  fainter,  till  it  ceases.  Mac- 
Dowell's  "  From  an  Indian  Lodge "  is  suitable  for 
this. 


109 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  WHITE 
MAN:  TABLEAU 

This  tableau  represents  a  woodland  scene,  and  is 
supposed  to  symbolize  the  coming  of  the  Norseman. 
A  young  Indian  brave,  with  skins  about  his  shoulders 
and  hips,  his  black  hair  flying,  his  brown  arms  bar- 
barically  braceleted,  stands  poised,  listening,  and  look- 
ing at  a  spot  where  the  Norsemen  are  supposed  to  be 
making  a  landing,  off  stage.  With  one  hand  he 
shields  his  eyes.  With  the  other  he  holds  his  bow. 
The  tableau  should  suggest  the  wild  freedom  of  an  un- 
tamed spirit.  For  music,  some  bars  of  Grieg's  Norse 
airs. 


no 


PRINCESS  POCAHONTAS 

For  this  pageant  episode  see  page   12  of  the  Out- 
door Arrangement  of  the  Pageant  of  Patriots. 


in 


PRISCILLA  MULLINS  SPINNING: 

TABLEAU 

The  same  woodland  setting  as  has  been  used  for 
Pocahontas.  In  the  center  of  the  stage  Priscilla  and 
her  spinning-wheel.  The  scene  is  outside  her  dooryard 
at  Plymouth,  Mass.,  in  the  Spring  of  1621.  The 
tableau  should  be  held  a  full  minute.  Appropriate 
music:  Senta's  "Spinning  Song";  or  Solvig's  "Spin- 
ning Song  "  from  Grieg's  "  Peer  Gynt  Suite." 


112 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN: 
JOURNEYMAN 

CHARACTERS 

Benjamin  Franklin,  a  young  printer 
Roger  Burchard,  a  Quaker 
Elizabeth  Burchard,  his  wife 
Deborah  Read 
William,  an  inn  boy 

Scene:  A  room  in  a  tavern.  Place:  Philadelphia. 
Time,  October,   1723. 

The  room  is  a  private  one  in  the  tavern  known  as 
The  Crooked  Billet.  It  has  a  neat,  cheerful,  welcom- 
ing aspect.  At  left  a  small  fire  glimmers  on  the  brass 
andirons  of  a  well-kept  hearth.  A  brass  kettle  rests 
on  a  hob.  On  the  shelf  above  the  hearth  candles  are 
alight. 

All  across  the  background  are  a  series  of  small  win- 
dows curtained  in  chintz.  By  these  windows  a  table 
set  for  supper,  with  a  white  linen  cloth  and  delicately 
sprigged  china.     Quaint  chairs  with  spindle  legs. 

Against  the  right  wall  a  secretary  with  a  shelf  full  of 
handsomely-bound  books.     Near  this  two  chairs  with 

113 


ii4       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

high  backs  that  would  screen  from  view  any  one  sitting 
in  them. 

There  is  a  door  at  right  background  opening  into  the 
hall 

Another  door  at  left  near  background,  opening  into 
another  room. 

At  the  rise  of  the  curtain  Roger  Burchard  is  dis- 
covered seated  at  the  table,  on  which  a  generous  supper 
lies  spread;  while  Elizabeth,  his  wife,  is  bending  at  the 
hearth. 

Elizabeth. 

The  kettle  hath  not  yet  boiled  for  thy  second  cup, 
Roger.  'Tis  slow,  yet  I  do  not  worry,  for  'tis  only 
twilight,  and  there  is  a  good  hour  yet  ere  we  are  due  at 
the  special  meeting  of  the  Friends,  and  Deborah  Read 
is  to  come  with  us.  Does  thee  know,  Roger,  I  some- 
times think  that  for  all  her  saucy  ways  Mistress 
Deborah  Read  is  half  a  Friend  at  heart.  When  I  do 
speak  she  listens  to  me  most  attentively. 

Roger. 
Thee  should  not  force  belief  upon  another,  Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth 
(demurely). 

I  did  not  force:  I  did  but  talk  to  her,  Roger.  Thee 
knows  I  am  not  over  eloquent.  How  should  a  worldly 
maid  of  Philadelphia  give  ear  to  me? 

[Crosses  to  Roger:  the  kettle  lies  forgotten. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN:  JOURNEYMAN    115 

Roger. 

How,  indeed!  Does  thee  know,  Elizabeth,  that  in 
so  quiet  a  room  as  this  I  can  scarce  believe  that  a  great 
city  lies  about  us?  'Tis  so  still  that  I  can  hear  the 
ticking  of  the  clock. 

Elizabeth. 

For  myself,  I  am  glad  of  a  little  rest  after  our  jour- 
ney up  from  Brookfleld  to  the  city.  I  find  myself 
scarce  used  to  city  ways. 

Roger. 

No  more  do  I,  Elizabeth,  no  more  do  I.  I  cannot 
think  this  lavish  life  is  seemly.  This  table,  now! 
Does  thee  note  its  profusion?  More  bread  and  honey 
and  cheese  and  chicken  pie  than  we  can  eat.  Sheer 
waste — unless  we  can  share  it.  If  there  was  but  some 
poor  traveler  in  this  inn  whom  we  might  bid  to  sup- 
per, and 

[A  knock  on  the  door  leading  to  hall. 

Elizabeth. 

'Tis  William,  the  inn  boy,  with  tea  cakes. 

[Elizabeth  opens  the  door.  William  enters 
with  tea  cakes  on  tray.  He  deposits  the 
plate  of  cakes  on  table. 

Roger. 

As  I  was  saying — if  there  was  but  some  traveler  in 
this  inn  to  share  our  evening  meal — some  one  with 
pockets  that  were  well-nigh  empty 


u6       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Elizabeth. 

Perhaps  the  inn  boy  knows  of  such  a  one.  (Ta 
William.)  Does  thee  not,  William  ?  Some  one  whose 
purse  is  not  too  over-burdened? 

William 

(sturdily). 

Aye,  that  I  do.  A  lad  came  here  this  noon  from 
Boston.  A  journeyman  printer  so  he  says  he  is,  and 
I'll  warrant  he  has  not  above  four  shillings  with  him. 
(To  Roger.)  He's  come  to  search  for  work  in  Phila- 
delphia, and  says  he  was  directed  to  this  tavern  by  a — 
by  a  Quaker,  sir. 

Elizabeth. 

Directed  here  by  a  Quaker — !  (To  Roger.)  Then, 
Roger,  all  the  more  reason  why  we  should  bid  him  in. 
What  is  his  name? 

William. 

He  says  his  name  is  Franklin. 

Roger. 

Then  ask  friend  Franklin  if  he'll  sup  with  us.  Tell 
him  we,  too,  would  hear  the  news  from  Boston — that 
he'll  confer  a  favor  if  he'll  come.  And  mind,  no  hint 
about  an  empty  purse!  I  fear  at  first  I  put  the  matter 
clumsily.    Give  him  my  later  message.    That  is  all. 

William. 
I  will,  sir. 

[Exit,  with  a  flourish,  right  background. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN:  JOURNEYMAN   117 

Roger. 
I  hope  he  comes. 

Elizabeth 

(fondly). 

'Tis  ever  like  thee,  Roger,  to  have  a  care  for  the 
friendless  and  forlorn. 

William 

(knocking,  opening  door  from  hall,  and  announcing). 

Benjamin  Franklin,  Journeyman! 

[Enter  Franklin,  shabby,  travel-stained,  and 
boyishly  appealing.     Exit  William. 

Roger 

(stepping  hospitably  forward). 

I  bid  thee  welcome,  friend  Franklin.  I  hear  thee  is 
from  Boston,  and  come  to  search  for  work  in  Phila- 
delphia. Will  thee  not  sup  here  ?  We  are  ever  anxious 
for  news  such  as  travelers  may  bring.  This  is  my  wife, 
Elizabeth  Burchard,  and  she  will  make  thee  welcome. 
I  mind  me  of  the  time  when  I  was  once  a  stranger. 
Will  thee  not  do  us  the  pleasure  to  sup  with  us? 

Franklin. 

I  scarcely,  sir,  know  how  to  thank  you  for  such 
kindness.  All  Quakers  must  be  kind,  I  think,  for  it 
was  a  Quaker  who  directed  me  hither. 

[Franklin  crosses  to  fire,  Roger  taking  his  hat 
from  him.  In  brief  pantomime  behind  Frank- 
lin's back  Roger  has  indicated  that  Franklin 


u8       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

is  to  take  his  place  at  table,  and  that  he  him- 
self will  sup  no  further.  During  the  con- 
versation that  follows  Elizabeth  is  taking 
fresh  silver  out  of  a  quaint  basket  that  is  on 
the  table,  Franklin  stands  at  fire,  and  Roger 
is  seated  at  right. 

Elizabeth. 

Perhaps  my  husband  can  advise  thee  further  where 
best  to  look  for  work  upon  the  morrow. 

Franklin. 

I  thank  you.  I  will  hear  him  gladly.  He  that  can- 
not be  counseled  cannot  be  helped.* 

Roger. 
Thee  means  to  seek  for  work  at  once,  I  see. 

Franklin. 

Lost  time  is  never  found  again,*  and  since  time  is  of 
all  things  the  most  precious,  I  am  loth  to  lose  it. 

Roger. 

There  is  a  wise  head  upon  thy  shoulders,  friend. 
(Indicates  table,  and  rises.)  Sit  thee  down,  lad.  Sit 
thee  down. 

Elizabeth 

(hurrying  to  hearth  where  kettle  stands), 

Alas!     I  have  forgotten  the  kettle!    The  tea  is  not 

*  From  Franklin's  "  Poor  Richard's  Almanac." 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN:  JOURNEYMAN    119 

yet  ready.  (To  Roger.)  Do  thee  and  Benjamin 
Franklin  talk  while  I  prepare  it.  Show  him  the 
volumes  lately  come  from  London.  Thee  knows  the 
print  and  paper  is  most  pleasing. 

[Roger  Burchard  and  Benjamin  Franklin  sit  at 
right  in  the  high-backed  chairs,  the  volumes 
upon  their  knees.  That  they  are  true  book- 
lovers  is  instantly  apparent.  They  are  lost 
to  everything  that  goes  on  about  them.  They 
sit  with  their  backs  towards  the  door  at  left, 
quite  screened  from  the  view  of  any  one  enter- 
ing there.  There  is  a  pause.  Then  Deborah 
Read  taps  softly  at  the  door  at  left.  Eliza- 
beth turns  and  opens  the  door. 

Deborah 

(finger  on  lip). 

S-ssh!  Not  a  word!  (Glances  towards  the  back  of 
Roger s  chair.)     I've  crept  up  the  stairs  on  tip-toe! 

Elizabeth. 

Sweet  rogue!  Thee  startled  me  to  the  point  of 
dropping  the  kettle !  Yonder  is  my  husband  so  deep  in 
a  book  that  the  crack  o'  doom  would  scarce  rouse  him. 
And  with  him  is  a  young  printer  whom  we  have  bid 
to  be  our  guest.  Roger  and  I  have  finished  our  even- 
ing meal,  so  perhaps  thee  will  keep  our  young  guest 
company  while  I  prepare  for  meeting. 


120       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Deborah 

(holding  up  warning  finger). 

Primp  not  too  much  for  meeting,  fair  friend  Eliza- 
beth! A  grave  demeanor  goes  with  Quaker  bonnets! 
(Laughs.)  Yes,  yes,  I'll  serve  your  printer,  play 
hostess,  or  aught  else  that  will  please  you,  and  you  can 
call  me  when  'tis  time  to  leave  him.  (Throws  off  her 
cloak,  and  sits  by  hearth  on  footstool.)  La!  such  a 
day!  This  very  morn  I  saw  the  strangest  sight!  I 
went  to  the  door  to  get  a  breath  of  air,  and  as  I  stood 
there  what  should  I  see  approaching  down  the  street 
but  a  lad  with  dusty  clothes  and  bulging  pockets — nay, 
wait,  Elizabeth!  The  drollest  part  is  yet  to  come!  I 
vow  he  had  stuffed  one  pocket  full  of  stockings,  and 
from  the  other  protruded  a  loaf  of  bread!  And  in  his 
hand  was  a  great  fat  roll,  and  he  was  eating  it! 
Gnawing  it  off,  an  you  please,  as  if  there  were  no  one 
to  see  him!    Then  he  looked  up,  and 

Elizabeth 

(shocked). 

Deborah!  Thee  did  not  laugh  at  him!  Thee  did 
not  mock  at  him ! 

Deborah 

(wiping  tears  of  mirth  from  her  eyes). 

Mock  at  him?  Oh,  lud!  I  laughed  till  my  sides 
ached !     (Rises,  as  she  happens  to  see  that  Roger  Burch- 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN:  JOURNEYMAN   121 

ard  and  his  guest  are  rising,  yet  continues  gaily.)    And 
when  he  caught  sight  of  my  face 

[Just  as  Deborah  utters  these  words  she  and 
Franklin  perceive  each  other.  Deborah  is 
utterly  taken  aback  and  quite  speechless, 

Roger 

(seeing  nothing  amiss). 

Welcome,  Deborah  Read.  I  present  to  thee  Benja- 
min Franklin. 

[Franklin  bows.  Deborah  drops  a  fluttering 
courtesy,  and  then  clings  to  Elizabeth 
Burchard. 

Deborah 

(quaveringly). 

I — I  feel  somewhat  faint,  Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth 

(seeing  nothing  amiss). 

Then  sit  at  the  table,  dear  Deborah,  and  a  cup  of 
tea  will  revive  thee. 

Deborah 

(protesting). 

No — !    No — !    I — I  will  help  you  to  dress. 

Elizabeth. 

Then  who  will  serve  Benjamin  Franklin?  Thee 
promised  that  thee  would  be  hostess,  so  unless  aught  is 
amiss 


122       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Deborah 

(recovering  herself,  and  suddenly  displaying  a  haughty 

self-p  ossessio  n) . 

Naught  is  amiss,  Elizabeth.  I  will  serve  tea  if  you 
bid  me. 

[Deborah  sits  at  one  end  of  the  table,  Franklin 
at  the  other. 

Elizabeth. 

Thee  knows  the  Friends'  special  meeting  to-night  is 
at  the  same  hour  as  that  of  the  other  churches,  so  when 
thee  hears  the  church-bells  ringing  'twill  be  time  to 
prepare,   sweet   Deborah. 

Deborah 

(with  a  gleam). 

I'll  not  forget  the  time.  I  promise  you  that,  Eliza- 
beth. 

Elizabeth. 

Come,  Roger.     Thee  must  wear  a  fresh  neck-cloth. 

[Roger  and  Elizabeth  exeunt  left.     There  is  a 
very  long  pause. 

Deborah. 
Will  you  have  tea,  Master  Franklin? 

Franklin. 
If  it  pleases  you,  Mistress  Read. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN:  JOURNEYMAN    123 

Deborah. 
Cream  ?    Sugar  ? 

Franklin. 
I  thank  you. 

[She  passes  him  his  cup.     There  is  another  long 
pause. 

Franklin 

(with  a  great  sigh). 

'Tis  a  silent  place,  Philadelphia! 

[Another  pause. 
Franklin. 

Will  you  have  some  bread,  Mistress? 

Deborah 

(coldly). 
I  thank  you,  no. 

Franklin 

(bluntly). 

Have  you  ever  pondered,  Mistress,  that  pride  that 
dines  on  vanity  sups  on  contempt  ?  * 

Deborah 

(outraged). 
Master  Franklin! 

Franklin. 

I  know  right  well  that  my  poor  coat  offends  you ;  yet 
in  truth,  Mistress  Deborah,  why  should  I  dress  in  finer 
cloth  when  silks  and  satins  put  out  the  kitchen  fire.* 

*  From  "Poor  Richard's  Almanac." 


124       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Deborah. 
'Tis  not  your  coat  offends  me,  'tis 

Franklin. 

'Tis  that  I  am  neither  the  son  of  a  gold-laced  gov- 
ernor nor  a  wealthy  merchant  but  only  a  poor  journey- 
man printer.  Then,  Mistress,  you  have  yet  to  learn 
that  he  who  hath  a  trade  hath  an  estate,  and  he  who 
hath  a  calling  hath  an  office  of  profit  and  honor.* 

Deborah 

(with  spirit). 

There  you  read  me  wrong,  Master  Franklin,  I 
have  supped  with  printers  before  this. 

Franklin. 

Then  'twas  the  printer's  loaf  you  mocked  this  morn- 
ing, Mistress  Deborah;  and  not  the  printer.  Yet  in 
truth,  why  should  eating  in  the  street  displease  you, 
since  'twas  a  matter  of  necessity.  Ere  fancy  you  con- 
sult, consult  your  purse,*  and  my  purse  was  not  over 
full.  But — diligence  is  the  mother  of  luck,  and  heaven 
gives  all  things  to  industry.* 

Deborah 

(with  a  toss). 

You  speak  as  if  you  and  Industry  were  boon  com- 
panions. 

*From  "Poor  Richard's  Almanac." 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN:  JOURNEYMAN    125 

Franklin. 

And  what  better  companion  could  I  have?    Heaven 
helps  them  that  help  themselves. 

Deborah 
(witheringly). 
'Tis  a  fine  thing  to  have  high  hopes,  I  doubt  not. 

Franklin 

(blithely). 

Oh,  I  have  more  than  hopes,  Mistress  Deborah;  for 
he  that  lives  upon  hope  will  die  fasting.*  To  apply 
one's  self  right  heartily  is  to  do  more  than  hope.  Sloth 
makes  all  things  difficult ;  but  industry  all  things  easy.* 
You  are  not  eating,  Mistress  Deborah.  (She  rises.) 
Have  my  blunt  ways  offended  you?  Have  I  again  dis- 
pleased you? 

Deborah 

(with  chilling  dignity). 

You  could  not  an  you  tried,  Master  Franklin.  I 
was  but  going  to  fetch  the  tea-kettle. 

Franklin 
(starting  up). 
If  I  can  help  you 

*  From  "  Poor  Richard's  Almanac." 


126       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Deborah 
(still  frostily). 
I  thank  you,  I  am  in  no  need  of  help.    A-ah ! 

[With  a  cry  she  drops  the  kettle. 

Franklin. 

You  have  burned  yourself,  Mistress  Deborah!  The 
poor  little  hand!  (He  tears  up  his  handkerchief.) 
Let  me  bandage  it  for  you!     It  is  sorely  blistered! 

Deborah 

(tears  in  her  voice  the  while  she  submits  her  hand  to 

him). 

I  can  tolerate  blisters,  Master  Franklin.  They  are 
far  less  irksome  than — than 

Franklin 

(gravely  bandaging  her  hand). 

Than  journeymen  printers  who  eat  their  bread  in 
the  street.  Perhaps  you  are  right,  Mistress  Deborah. 
I  trust  that  the  blisters  will  soon  heal;  and  that  the 
memory  of  the  journeyman  printer  will  not  trouble 
you  further. 

Deborah 

(as  the  church-bells  begin  to  ring  without). 

The  memory  of  a  chance  traveler  is  easily  forgot, 
Master  Franklin. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN:  JOURNEYMAN   127 

Elizabeth 

(outside  door,  left). 

Come,  Deborah,  we  shall  be  late!  Come  quickly, 
child!  (Deborah  snatches  up  her  cloak.)  Bid  Ben- 
jamin Franklin  to  wait  my  husband's  return.  He 
would  talk  to  him  further  concerning  books.  Come, 
Deborah ! 

[Exit    Deborah,    left,    without    a    glance    at 
Franklin. 

Franklin 

(dropping  into  chair  by  secretary,  right). 

Do  blisters  burn  as  keen  as  words,  I  wonder? 
"Chance  travelers  .  .  .  easily  forgot!"  (Sits  with 
bowed  head.) 

[Deborah  stands  again  in  doorway  at  left,  sees 
him,  comes  to  him  swiftly  and  remorsefully. 

Franklin 

(raises  his  head;  sees  her). 

Is  it 

Deborah. 

'Tis  naught — naught  but  Deborah  Read  come  to  say 
to  you — to  say  to  you — that  she  should  have  remem- 
bered that  you  were  a  stranger  in  a  city  full  of 
strangers.  (Pleadingly.)  Indeed,  indeed  I  did  not 
mean  to  hurt  you!  I  do  not  mind  your  rusty  clothes; 
I  do  not  mock  your — your  faded  hat.  I — I  have  been 
full  of  foolish  pride.     Will  you  forgive  me? 


128       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Franklin 

(rising;  amazed). 
Deborah ! 

Deborah 

(hurrying  on). 

I  had  not  meant  to  laugh  at  you  this  morning.  Will 
you  forgive  that,  too? 

Franklin 

(moved). 
Deborah ! 

Deborah. 

I  know  I  sometimes  judge  by  foolish  standards. 
Will  you  forgive? 

Franklin. 

With  all  my  heart,  my  friend.  (They  clasp  hands 
on  it.)  And  will  you,  Deborah,  forgive  me  my  blunt 
speeches?  I  knew  not  how  to  please  you.  I  meant  no 
harm. 

Deborah 

(earnestly). 
I  forgive  all. 

Franklin. 

And  we  are  friends  for  life — for  all  our  lives, 
Deborah. 

Elizabeth 

(speaking  somewhat  impatiently  frojn  beyond  the  door 

at  left). 
Deborah!    Child! 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN:  JOURNEYMAN    129 

Deborah 
(prettily). 
Yes!     Yes!     I'm  coming! 

[Hastens  out  the  door  with  a  friendly  backward 
glance  at  Franklin.  He  stands  for  a  moment 
where  she  has  left  him. 
Crosses  to  secretary,  takes  book,  seats  himself, 
opens  it  slowly,  looking  after  her.  Then  sits 
a-dream  in  the  fading  fireglow.  Presently  he 
looks  at  the  book  again,  and  reads  the  first 
line  upon  which  his  eye  chances  to  fall. 

Franklin 

(reading) . 
11  Count  thyself  rich  when  thou  hast  found  a  friend." 

(The  curtain  slowly  falls.) 

COSTUMES 

Benjamin  Franklin.  Travel-stained  suit  of  dark- 
brown,  guiltless  of  braid  or  ruffles,  coat  and  knee- 
breeches  being  of  the  same  color.  The  material  either 
of  corduroy  or  homespun  (woolen).  A  white  vest 
flowered  with  brown  roses.  A  white  neckcloth.  Black 
stockings.  Low  black  shoes.  A  three-cornered  black 
hat,  which  he  carries  under  his  arm.  Hair  worn  long 
and  unpowdered. 

Roger  Burchard.  Coat  and  knee-breeches  of  the 
same    style    as    Franklin's,    made    of    homespun,    and 


130       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Quaker-gray  in  color.  A  Quaker-gray  vest.  White 
neckcloth.  Gray  stockings.  Low  black  shoes  with 
silver  buckles.     Unpowdered  hair. 

Elizabeth  Burchard.  Dress  of  gray  satin,  sim- 
ply made,  with  a  crossed  kerchief  of  snowy  white  lawn. 
Gray  stockings.  Gray  slippers  with  silver  buckles. 
Hair  worn  simply,  and  unpowdered.  (Gray  glazed 
cambric  for  her  dress  if  satin  cannot  be  had.) 

Deborah  Read.  Quilted  petticoat  of  pale-blue 
satin.  Colonial  overdress  and  bodice  of  white,  brocaded 
with  pale-blue  roses.  Fichu  of  white  lawn.  Black 
picture  hat  with  black  plume.  Black  cloth  cloak  lined 
in  pale-blue.  Black  stockings.  Low  black  shoes  with 
gold  buckles.  Unpowdered  hair,  worn  pompadour. 
(If  satin  and  brocade  cannot  be  had,  have  blue  glazed 
muslin  and  cretonne  instead.  Or  flowered  muslin  worn 
over  a  white  dress.)  Black  patches.  Black  velvet 
ribbon  at  neck.  White  lace  mitts,  or  black  gloves  com- 
ing to  the  elbow. 

William.  Maroon  suit,  of  a  heavy  woolen  ma- 
terial. Gold  buttons  down  the  front  and  two  in  back. 
Cream-colored  vest.  Neither  braiding  nor  ruffles. 
Black  stockings.  Low  black  shoes  without  buckles.  A 
white  neckcloth.     Unpowdered  hair  worn  in  a  cue. 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON'S 
FORTUNE 

For  this  pageant  episode  see  page  46  of  the  Outdoor 
Arrangement  of  the  Pageant  of  Patriots. 


131 


THE  BOSTON  TEA  PARTY 

CHARACTERS 

Richard  Stockton 

John  Corey 

Ned  Peabody 

Phil  Amesbury 

Jefferson  Winwood 

Frank  Wharton 

Thomas  Rigby,  a  tavern-keeper 

Egbert  Penrose    )  .  .      _ . 

Sidney  Marsh      }  Young  Brltish  Lieutenants 

Scene:  The  tavern  known  as  The  Golden  Pheasant. 
Place,  Boston. 

Time:  Six  o'clock  on  a  December  evening,  1773. 

The  tavern-room  is  low-ceilinged  and  ivainscoted 
with  dark  woodwork.  There  is  a  door  in  middle  back- 
ground, and  ivindows  on  each  side  of  it. 

At  the  right,  towards  foreground,  a  chimney-place, 
with  smoldering  fire.  Above  is  a  shelf  on  which  are 
iron  candlesticks  and  short  bits  of  candles  that  shoiv 
economy.  Against  the  right  wall  a  round  mahogany 
table.  On  it  another  iron  candlestick,  which  has  been 
lighted.     A     punch-bowl.     Cups.     A     ladle.     Also     a 

132 


THE  BOSTON  TEA  PARTY  133 

brass  bowl  beneath  which  a  small  charcoal  flame  burns, 
keeping  hot  the  lemonade.  Beyond  this  table  a  dark 
wooden  chest  with  a  heavy  lock.  Under  the  window 
in  left  background  a  similar  chest. 

By  the  hearth,  facing  audience,  a  long  seat  with  a 
high  back  and  pew-like  ends.  At  the  rise  of  the  cur- 
tain, Thomas  Rigby,  the  rubicund  landlord,  is  light- 
ing with  a  taper  the  candles  that  stand  on  the  mantel- 
shelf, the  buttons  on  his  plum-colored  ivaistcoat 
twinkling  in  the  gleam.  He  has  only  lighted  one  when 
the  door  is  pushed  open,  and  there  enter  two  young 
British  lieutenants,  ilfere  lads,  whose  scarlet  cloaks, 
exaggerated  lace  wrist  ruffles,  and  brilliant  gold  braid- 
ing make  a  fine  showing.  But  Thomas  Rigby  shows 
no  look  of  welcome. 

Marsh. 

Hey,  landlord!  Brrrr!  It's  cold!  Give  us  some- 
thing to  warm  us. 

Penrose 
(foppishly). 

Aye,  and  be  brisk  about  it.  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
served  in  a  loitering  fashion. 

[Rigby  makes  as  if  to  speak;  but  restrains  him- 
self, and,  with  a  look  of  quiet  scorn,  serves 
them  hot  lemon  punch.  Penrose  is  by  the 
fire.     Marsh  by  the  window. 

Marsh. 
It  promises  to  be  a  chilly  eve  after  a  cloudy  morning. 


134       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Penrose 
(with  a  shiver). 
More  snow  and  bitter  weather ! 

Marsh 

(looking  out  the  window). 
Nay,  not  so  bitter.     The  window-panes  are  clear 
and   unfrosted.     The  twilight   gathers  quickly.     The 
streets  are  gray,  and  there's  scarce  a  gleam  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  harbor. 

Penrose 

(as  Marsh  leaves  window  for  fire). 

Not  e'en  a  light  in  the  rigging  o'  Francis  Rotch's 
ships?  The  sailors  must  be  supping  at  the  taverns. 
They're  weary  now  of  staying  harborbound.  There'll 
be  rejoicing  when  the  tax  is  paid,  and  the  stiff-necked 
Yankees  bring  the  tea  to  land. 

Marsh. 

There  be  some  who  call  themselves  patriots,  and 
swear  they'll  never  pay  it. 

Penrose 

(sipping). 
Not  pay  it?  They'll  defy  us?  Pooh!  We  could 
bring  them  to  time  with  a  twist  of  the  wrist  did  we 
but  wish  to!  (Looking  with  approval  at  his  own  ap- 
parel.) A  mere  handful  of  men  with  scarcely  any 
lace  for  their  ruffles,  and  tarnished  buckles  for  their 
shoes!     They  defy  us?    You're  jesting!     No,  no,  my 


THE  BOSTON  TEA  PARTY  135 

dear  Sidney!  In  spite  of  all  their  protests  and  town 
meetings  they'll  be  glad  enough  to  give  in  at  the  end, 
and  to  pay  the  tax  right  speedily.  For,  mark  you,  in 
spite  of  all  the  rumors  of  defiance  that  we've  heard,  the 
town  to-night  lies  as  quiet  as  a  church. 

Marsh. 
Aye,  so  it  does. 

Penrose 

(rising). 

Too  quiet  for  my  spirits.     Let's  seek  another  tavern 
where  there's  more  revelry  than  there  is  here. 

Marsh 

(draining  his  glass). 

We'll  not  find  shrewder  lemon  punch  at  any.     On 
my  way  back  I'll  have  another  glass. 

[Tosses  money  at  Rigby,  who  lets  it  lie  where 
it  falls.  He  shakes  a  clenched  hand  after 
the  retreating  figures  of  the  two  lieutenants, 
and  then  goes  back  to  lighting  his  candles  on 
the  mantelshelf.  Marsh  and  Penrose  exeunt. 
After  a  moment  there  comes  from  without 
the  sound  of  a  halting  step,  the  door  is 
opened,  and  Richard  Stockton  enters,  a  lad 
with  the  eyes  of  a  dreamer,  and  the  bearing 
of  a  doer  of  deeds.  Thomas  Rigby,  at  sound 
of  the  entering  step,  turns,  taper  in  hand. 


136       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Richard 
(coming  forward). 
'Tis  only  I.     Go  on  with  the  candles,  landlord. 

Rigby 

(joyfully). 

Only  you,  Dick  Stockton!  Zounds!  There's  none 
whom  I'd  sooner  see!  Quick!  Tell  me  the  news! 
These  be  stirring  days,  and  here  am  I  tied  to  this 
tavern-room,  and  afraid  to  leave  it  lest  those  brawling 
red-coats  loot  it  while  I'm  gone.  To  leave  a  tavern- 
room  empty  is  to  invite  disaster — and  yet — what  pa- 
triot should  bide  indoors  on  days  like  these!  'Faith! 
I'm  torn  'twixt  necessities!  Come!  Your  news.  Sit 
by  the  fire  and  out  with  it!  What's  to  become  of  the 
tea  we  won't  pay  taxes  on? 

Richard. 

Give  me  breath  and  I'll  tell  you!  There's  news  to 
make  your  blood  boil.  I've  been  at  the  town  meeting 
in  the  Old  South  Church  all  day.  What  think  you — ! 
The  governor  at  Milton  has  refused  a  pass  to  Francis 
Rotch,  and  the  tea  ships  cannot  leave  the  harbor.  The 
British  have  sworn  they'll  make  us  pay  the  tax  or  wring 
our  scurvy  necks. 

Rigby 

(outraged). 

Zounds!  There  are  necks  I'd  like  to  have  the  wring- 
ing of!     What  else,  lad,  what  else? 


THE  BOSTON  TEA  PARTY  137 

Richard. 

The  Old  South  Church  could  not  hold  half  the  pa- 
triots who  wish  to  talk  and  listen.  Such  speeches !  Oh, 
they'd  stir  your  blood  if  you  could  hear  them! 

RlGBY 

(eyes  a- gleam). 
'Tis  stirred  enough  already!    Go  on,  lad,  quickly! 

Richard. 

Josiah  Quincy  is  presiding  at  the  New  Old  South. 
'Twas  he  who  thought  of  sending  word  to  the  gov- 
ernor. And  now  the  governor  has  refused,  and  if 
there's  nothing  done  we're  beaten — beaten,  Tom  Rigby, 
we  who  so  love  freedom! 

Rigby. 

Tut !  Tut !  Lad !  The  night's  not  done  yet.  Are 
they  still  at  the  meeting? 

Richard. 

Aye,  and  are  like  to  be  for  the  next  hour.  'Tis 
scarcely  six — just  candle-lighting  time. 

Rigby. 
You  look  white,  lad.     Have  you  eaten? 

Richard. 
Eaten!    On  such  a  day  as  this! 


138       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

RlGBY. 

Nonsense,  lad.  You  must  keep  up  your  strength. 
(Crosses  to  serving-table  where  bowl  stands.)  Here! 
If  you  will  not  eat,  at  least  you  can  drink  a  cup  of 
steaming  lemon  punch.  No  lads  who  come  to  my 
tavern  get  anything  stronger — unless,  mayhap,  a  cup 
of  apple  juice.  Youth  is  its  own  best  wine.  Cider 
for  you.  Burgundy  for  your  betters,  eh,  lad?  (Gives 
Richard  a  cup  and  takes  a  cup  himself.)  Here's  to 
taxless  tea!     (Drinks.) 

Richard 

(joining  him  in  the  toast). 

And  the  confounding  of  the  British !  And  now,  since 
there  are  no  red-coats  about,  I  may  tell  you  that  the 
Old  South  Church  is  not  the  only  place  that's  to  hold 
a  meeting.    There's  going  to  be  one  here. 

Rigby 

(surprised). 
Here? 

Richard. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  the  lads  will  meet  me. 
We  call  ourselves  "  The  Younger  Sons  of  Freedom." 

Rigby 

(somewhat  severely). 

All  that  I  have  is  at  your  service ;  yet  'tis  only  lately 
that  lads  have  been  allowed  to  rove  past  curfew  time. 


THE  BOSTON  TEA  PARTY  139 

Richard. 
Such  days  as  these  lads  grow  to  men  right  quickly. 
Do  you  think  we  waste  our  time  with  games  and — and 
snowball  forts,  Tom  Rigby?  No!  The  Younger 
Sons  of  Freedom  have  learned  to  fight  and  fence,  to 
run  and  swim,  and  to  swarm  up  a  ship's  ladder  if  need 
be.  How  could  any  lad  be  idle  these  last  nineteen  days, 
with  fathers  and  brothers  patrolling  the  wharves  day 
and  night  to  keep  the  tea  from  landing;  when  patriot 
sentinels  are  stationed  in  every  belfry;  and  when  all 
Beacon  Hill  is  topped  with  tar-barrels  ready  to  blaze 
out  into  signals  at  a  moment's  notice.  I  tell  you — my 
very  dreams  are  of  defiance!  But  my  deeds — what  can 
a  lad  do  when  he  goes  through  life  halting?  A  maimed 
foot  makes  a  maimed  ambition,  unless — unless  as  I 
would  fain  believe,  the  spirit  is  stronger  than  the  body. 
It  is  the  will  that  counts. 

Rigby. 

You're  wiser  than  most  lads,   Richard.     You've  a 

head  on  your  shoulders.    I've  known  you  long;  but  you 

have  never  spoken — until  to-night.     It  was  your  will 

that  took  you  through  your  puny  childhood,  fatherless, 

motherless,  and  made  your  stern  old  uncle  proud  of  you. 

Why  now  be  down-hearted?     I've  heard  you  spoken 

of  as  a  lad  of  spirit  by  Dr.  Warren,  aye,  and  by  Paul 

Revere.  _. 

Richard. 

There's  a  patriot  for  you!    Would  I  could  do  such 

deed?  as  he  can   do.     Oh,  all  I  think  of  is  to  serve 

my  country — my  city  and  my  country! 


140       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

RlGBY. 

That's  all  I  think  on,  too. 

Richard 

(amazed). 
You,  Tom  Rigby? 

Rigby 

(somewhat  bitterly). 

Did  I  seem  to  you  only  a  waistcoat  with  buttons? 
Nay,  don't  protest!  'Tis  how  most  folks  think  of  me. 
What  have  I  to  do  with  valor?  I'm  Tom  the  landlord, 
Tom  the  tapster,  Tom  the  tavern-keeper !  How  should 
they  guess  in  me  Tom  the  patriot,  Tom  the  hero- 
worshiper?  And  yet  there's  not  one  bit  of  my  coun- 
try's past,  not  one  smallest  Indian  war  but  what  has 
meaning  for  me.  What  do  you  think  those  chests 
are  full  of?    Trophies! 

Richard. 
Trophies ! 

Rigby. 

From  all  the  wars  we've  had.  (Unlocks  chest  at 
right  wall,  excitedly.)  Look!  Tomahawks.  Head- 
dresses. (Taking  things  out  of  chest.)  Feathers.  A 
war-knife.     An  Indian  robe  taken  in  Philip's  war. 

Richard 
(delighted :  interested). 
In  Philip's  war. 


THE  BOSTON  TEA  PARTY  141 

RlGBY. 

(with  emotion). 
They're  more  to  me  than  a  king's  ransom ! 

[He  pauses,  looking  over  contents  of  chest. 

Richard 

(going  back  to  seat  by  fire,  and  speaking  to  himself  as 

he  sits  by  it). 

A  king's  ransom!  What  have  we  to  do  with  kings, 
who  cannot  even  thwart  the  tyrant  who  would  rule 

us!    If  there  was  but  some  way 

[Sits,  lost  in  thought. 

RlGBY 

(putting  trophies  back  in  chest,  looking  at  them  fondly, 
and  singing  softly  for  the  sheer  joy  of  touching 
them). 

"  Oh,  a  seaman's  life  is  a  jolly  life — Trol  de  rol,  de 
rol !  "  Wampum.  A  woven  blanket.  A  peace- 
pipe.     (Sings.) 

I  had  a  goodly  old  sea-chest, 
'Twas  filled  with — India  dyes. 

Oh,  wide  the  harbor,  deep  the  sea, 
Five  fathoms  down  it  lies! 
Five  fathoms  down  it  lies! 

Richard 

(half-hearing  Tom's  voice,  and  repeating  to  himself). 
"  Five  fathoms  deep   it   lies "      (In  a  suddenly 


142       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

electrified  voice.)     Tom!     Tom'Rigby!     I  have  the 
way !    Your  song  has  given  it  to  me !    I  have  the  way ! 

[He  has  rushed  to  Rigby. 

Rigby 

(as  sounds  of  approaching  footsteps  are  heard  ivithout). 

Hush!  Here  come  the  Sons  of  Freedom!  (Door  u 
flung  open.  Rigby' s  professional  manner  asserts  itself.) 
Welcome,  my  lads.     Come  in!     Come  in! 

Winwood 

(to  Richard). 

Are  we  on  time?  What  have  you  planned  for  us, 
Dick?  My  hands  and  heart  are  ready  for  a  night's 
work!  (Offering  his  portion  of  cider  in  loving-cup 
fashion.)     Some  cider? 

Richard. 
No.    I've  supped  on  revolution! 

Winwood. 
Would  there  were  something  stirring! 

Richard 
(throughout  with  growing  excitement). 
Are  folk  still  in  the  Old  South  Meeting-house? 

Winwood 

(impatiently). 

Aye,  still  talking  of  what's  to  be  done.  Hancock 
and  Paul  Revere  are  at  a  coffee-house. 


THE  BOSTON  TEA  PARTY  143 

Corey 

(as  the  lads  gather  about  table). 

Come,    Dick,    you've    heard    the    governor's    reply. 
How  would  you  deal  with  the  taxers? 

Richard 
(at  table,  center,  one  foot  on  table  and  one  on  chair). 
I'd  set  their  tea  to  brew! 

All 

(amazed). 
What! 

Richard. 

In  a  monstrous  teapot! 

Peabody 
(jesting). 
As  big  as  Rigby's  bowl. 

Richard 
(flaming  with  excitement). 
Oh,  larger!    Larger! 

Amesbury 
(indicating  large  cockade). 
Or  as  Frank  Wharton's  hat. 

Richard 

(inspired). 
Larger  by  far! 


144       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Amesbury. 
You   mean 


Richard 
(impassioned) . 
I'd  take  the  ocean ! 


ocean ! 


All.  <j 


f  The 

!   Zounds! 

The  harbor! 

Does  he  mean  it? 


Richard. 

Overboard — all  of  it!  Listen.  The  ships  are 
deserted:  the  sailors  on  shore  drinking  at  different 
taverns.  If  we  can  go  disguised,  we  can  slip  to  the 
water  front  unnoticed.  You  know  how  many  Indians 
roam  our  streets,  and  no  one  ever  heeds  them.  We'll 
all  be  braves  and  chieftains. 

Amesbury. 
But  where  are  our  disguises? 

Rigby 

(opening  his  chests,  tossing  out  his  treasures,  wild  with 

delight). 

Here!     Here  and  here! 

Richard. 

Wait.  We  must  have  other  followers.  Followers, 
said  I  ?  Leaders — with  sagacity.  Run,  Winwood ! 
Speak  to  John  Hancock,  Paul  Revere,  and  Dr.  Warren. 


THE  BOSTON  TEA  PARTY  145 

You  know  the  coffee-house  they  sup  at.  Tell  them 
there  are  disguises  for  us  all.  But  let  no  red-coat  hear 
you.     Quick!     The  time  is  passing. 

[Exit  Winwood,  on  the  run. 

RlGBY 

(half -overcome  with  his  emotion). 
Richard ! 

Richard 

(helping  him  and  the  rest  to  dress,  assisting  first  one 

and  then  another). 

Be  quick.  Let  me  help  you.  Here  are  feathers. 
Beads.  A  knife.  Hatchets.  A  Frenchman's  sash-belt. 
A  head-dress. 

Amesbury 

(hurriedly  fastening  on  his  disguise). 

Where  are  yours,  Dick? 

Richard. 

Hush!  (Touches  his  knee.)  I  cannot  scale  a  lad- 
der.    Listen!     Here's  Winwood. 

Winwood 

(bursting  in). 

Paul  Revere,  John  Hancock,  Dr.  Warren — all  come 
with  us.  I've  run  ahead  to  tell  you  they'll  meet  us  on 
the  way.  Give  me  disguises.  (They  clap  an  Indian 
robe  across  his  shoulders,  and  he  takes  an  armful  of 
Indian  finery.)     John  Hancock  says  there's  a  boat  and 


1 46       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

oars  at  the  foot  of  the  wharves,  and  Paul  Revere  will 
lead  us.     Come  quickly,  lads! 

[He  dashes  out  the  door,  with  his  armful  of 
finery.  The  others  follow  one  by  one,  as 
their  readiness  of  costume  determines. 

Richard 
(to  himself). 
And  Paul  Revere  will  lead  them! 

Rigby 

(his  hand  on  Richard's  shoulder). 

Richard,  you've  been  the  brains,  and  we  are  but  the 
fingers!  We  toss  the  tea:  but  'twas  your  heart  that 
planned  it.  Will  you  not  serve  us — serve  us  here  on 
land?  If  any  British  come,  see  they  don't  go  a-roving. 
The  fewer  on  the  streets  the  better.  D'ye  catch  my 
meaning?  And,  Richard,  one  word  more.  You  can  see 
the  ships  from  here.  The  work  we'll  do  will  take 
but  twenty  minutes.  If  we  succeed,  I'll  send  you  a 
signal.  I'll  wave  this  lantern  three  times  in  the 
darkness. 

Richard. 

Bless  you,  Tom  Rigby. 

[Richard  is  left  alone,  and  goes  to  seat  by  fire, 

Richard 

(dreaming  aloud). 

First  they'll  go  to  the  wharves  .  .  .  stealing 
quietly  through   the   darkness.     Then   there'll  be  the 


THE  BOSTON  TEA  PARTY  147 

muffled  dip  of  oars   .    .    .   and  then Oh,  would 

that  I  could  aid  them  in  this  hour!     But  I  am  im- 
potent, impotent! 

Penrose 

(querulously,  as  he  and  Marsh  enter). 

This  tavern's  still  deserted.  Is  there  naught  alive 
in  this  town  save  the  half-dozen  Indians  we've  met 
a-prowling  the  streets!     Where's  the  landlord? 

Richard 

(mock-humble). 

He's  absent,  sir,  on  business  of  importance.  But  he 
will  soon  return.  If  I  may  serve  you — some  cider, 
sir,  or  steaming  lemon  punch? 

Penrose 
(haughtily). 
Let  it  be  punch,  and  see  that  it  is  steaming. 

Richard 

(busying  himself). 
At  once,   sir. 

Penrose 

(languidly). 

Mark  how  importantly  he  takes  the  landlord's  place* 
How  old  are  you,  young  tapster? 

Richard. 
About  your  own  age,  sir,  I  have  been  thinking. 


148       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Marsh 

(with  a  laugh). 
Zounds!    You're  well  answered,  Penrose. 

Richard 
(seeing  that  Penrose  starts  up  angrily). 
Indeed  'twas  truth  I  meant,  sir,  and  no  insult. 

Marsh. 

Sit  down.  Sit  down.  He  is  a  simple  fellow. 
(Taps  his  forehead.)  He  means  no  wrong.  We  might 
have  sport  with  him. 

Richard 

(still  mock-humble). 

If  I  can  serve  you,  sir,  to  anything? 

Marsh. 
Suppose  we  call  for  tea? 

Richard 

(simply). 

We  do  not  serve  it. 

Marsh 

(amused). 

Oho!  Oho!  This  is  a  rebel  tavern.  And  so — no 
tea.     You  Yankees  do  not  serve  it. 

Richard. 
No;  but  we  sometimes  brew  it — with  salt  water. 


THE  BOSTON  TEA  PARTY  149 

Marsh 

(more  and  more  amused). 

'Tis   as   I   said.      Simple.      Let's   try   him   further. 
This  tea  you  brew.    It  must  have  a  new  flavor  ? 

0 

Richard. 

Aye,  a  new  flavor.  Some  will  find  it  bitter.  It  is 
a  brew  that  will  be  long  remembered. 

Marsh. 
I  doubt  not,  if  'tis  made  as  you  have  said. 

Penrose 

(yawning  impatiently). 

Come!  I  am  weary  for  adventure!  (Draws  his 
cloak  about  him.  Marsh  somewhat  reluctantly  fol- 
lows his  example.)  Let's  see  if  there  be  sport  about 
the  wharves 


Richard 
(to  himself). 


The  wharves- 


Marsh 

(still  reluctant). 

On  such  a  night  as  this — !  Why,  but  a  moment 
since  you  swore  it  was  too  cold !  Besides,  at  the  last 
tavern  that  we  visited  that  fool  of  a  Barton  took  my 
sword  in  jest.  (Darkly.)  He  thought  'twas  a  rare 
bit  of  nonsense;  but  'tis  one  I'll  make  him  pay  for!  I'll 
not  go  roaming  without  my  sword. 


150       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Penrose 

(insisting). 

But  I  have  mine.  One  sword's  enough  for  both. 
More  than  enough  for  any  Yankees  we  are  like  to  meet. 
We  could  give  some  of  them  a  rare  fright,  comrade. 
Come,  then,  in  search  of 

Richard 

(who  has  utilized  the  time  in  which  they  were  talking 
by  silently  taking  a  foil  from  the  nearest  chest). 

Back!  Do  not  come  any  nearer.  You  see  this  door 
is  guarded. 

[Stands  before  it,  his  mock  humility  gone,  his 
voice  resounding. 

Marsh 

(angrily). 
What  does  this  mean? 

Richard 

(suavely). 

One  of  my  crack-brained  fancies.  I  wished  to  keep 
you,  sirs,  for  twenty  minutes. 

Penrose 
(insulted). 
Even  a  crack-brained  lout  may  go  too  far. 

Marsh. 
Have  at  him!     He's  but  one 


THE  BOSTON  TEA  PARTY  151 

Richard 

(clearly  and  passionately,  his  voice  a-thrill). 

Behind  me  are  a  hundred — a  thousand  souls — all 
those  who  stand  for  freedom.  Although  you  do  not  see 
them,  they  are  there! 

Penrose 

(astounded). 

What!    Would  he  challenge  us? 

Marsh 

(scornfully). 

A  turn  of  the  wrist  and  the  thing  is  done.  Have  at 
him,  Penrose. 

[Penrose  and  Richard  engage.  Richard  fights 
coolly,  with  his  back  ever  to  the  door.  Pen- 
rose grows  more  and  more  flustered.  Marsh 
holds  an  iron  candelabrum  aloft,  for  the 
other  candles  have  gutted  and  the  room  is 
shadowy. 

Penrose 

(fear  in  his  voice). 

The  candles — higher.  They're  getting  low.  I  can- 
not see 

[Richard  and  Penrose  engage  a  second  time, 
and  Penrose's  foil  is  flung  across  the  room  to 
left.  Marsh  is  about  to  crash  the  candel- 
abrum on  Richard's  sword,  when  Richard, 
with  a  deft  movement,  seizes  it  and  hurls  it  to 
the  floor,  where  it  falls  with  a  dull  clatter. 


152       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Marsh,  discomfited,  turns  to  Penrose,  who  has 
picked  up  his  fallen  sword,  and  is  holding 
his  wrist. 

Penrose 

(peevishly). 

The  lout  has  turned  my  wrist,  and  torn  my  ruffles. 

Richard 

(who  has  darted  to  window,  and  stood  looking  out  for 
the  space  of  a  second  before  he  turns  to  them). 

A  thousand  pardons!  (Bows  ironically.)  Go! 
The  play  is  ended !  (With  growing  fervor.)  Through 
the  black  night  I've  caught  my  prompter's  signal.  I've 
seen  a  light — a  light  that  swings  in  the  darkness — a 
light  that  swings  three  times 

Penrose 

(querulously,  leaning  on  Marsh's  arm  as  they  go  to- 
wards door). 

What  does  he  mean  ?    A  signal  ? 

Richard 

(turning  on  them  with  passionate  triumph). 

A  signal  that  a  blow  is  struck  for  freedom !    A  signal 

that  your  tea  is  overboard!     A  signal  that  the  time 

will  come  when  liberty  will  be  the  watchword  of  our 

nation ! 

Marsh. 

Come!     Come!     He  dreams! 

[They  go  out. 


THE  BOSTON  TEA  PARTY  153 

Richard 

(with  face  upraised  in  the  waning  fire-glow). 
May  all  such  dreanis  come  true! 

Curtain. 

COSTUMES 

Richard  Stockton.  Coat  and  knee-breeches  of 
dull-blue  cloth.  Loose  white  shirt.  Soft  white  collar 
turned  down  on  his  coat.  Black  stockings.  Low 
black  shoes.     Unpowdered  hair. 

John  Corey.  Suit  of  the  same  fashion  as  Stock- 
ton's, made  of  black  cloth.  All  the  lads,  unless  other- 
wise indicated,  wear  low  black  shoes,  black  stockings, 
and  have  unpowdered  hair.  But  if  the  wigs  of  longish 
natural  hair  which  they  should  wear  are  too  expensive, 
then  they  may  have  powdered  wigs  made  of  white  cot- 
ton batting  stitched  to  tight-fitting  white  skull-caps. 

Ned  Peabody.     Suit  of  same  style  in  dark-brown. 

Phil  Amesbury.  Suit  of  same  style  in  somewhat 
shabby  black  velvet,  with  black  braiding.  It  is  evi- 
dent that  the  suit  has  been  "  handed  down  "  to  him. 

Jefferson  Winwood.  Suit  of  same  style  in  slate- 
gray,  with  buttons  and  pockets  of  cobalt  blue. 

Frank  Wharton.  Suit  of  very  dark  green. 
Green  buttons.  Has  a  black  cloak,  and  a  black  three- 
cornered  hat. 

Thomas  Rigby.  Well-worn  suit  of  dark  plum- 
color.     Plum-colored  waistcoat.     Gold  buttons  on  it. 


154       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

White  shirt  with  full  soft  sleeves.  A  white  stock. 
Black  stockings.     Low  black  shoes. 

Penrose.  Scarlet  jacket  with  gold  buttons  and 
epaulets.  White  broadcloth  breeches  tucked  into  high 
topboots.  White  vest.  Lace  stock.  Lace  wrist 
ruffles.  Scarlet  cloak  with  gold  braiding.  Carries  a 
sword. 

Marsh.  The  same  as  Penrose.  Carries  no  sword 
when  he  comes  in  a  second  time. 

If  "  The  Younger  Sons  of  Freedom  "  cannot  obtain 
suits  of  the  colors  described,  let  them  wear  the  usual 
boys'  coats  with  Colonial  pockets  basted  on,  and  let 
them  have  full  knee-breeches,  such  as  those  of  gym- 
nasium suits.  For  older  boys  who  play  the  parts,  black 
evening  suits,  the  coats  shaped  and  basted  back  to  re- 
semble Colonial  coats.  White  lace  stocks  and  cravats, 
and  lace  wrist  ruffles,  and  jabots. 


DRAMATIC  SILHOUETTE:  THE 
SPIRIT  OF  '76 

Thrown  into  shadow  silhouette  by  a  strong  light 
placed  behind  a  white  curtain,  the  figures  of  the  young 
patriots  appear.  Music  of  fife  and  drum  in  orchestra, 
clear,  high,  blood-stirring.  First  a  small  drummer-boy 
passes,  with  a  cocked  hat,  and  poised  drum-sticks. 
Then  a  boy  of  the  same  age  carrying  a  musket  that 
is  much  too  large  for  him.  Then  two  taller 
patriot  lads,  very  soldier-like.  Then  a  country  boy 
with  a  hoe  over  his  shoulder.  Then  two  figures,  one 
playing  a  fife,  the  other  a  drum.  Then  a  lone  patriot 
lad  with  a  cocked  hat  and  musket.  Then  another 
drummer-boy.  Then  a  boy  with  a  flag,  and  a  half 
dozen  patriots  following  him.  The  music  grows 
fainter  and  fainter,  as  if  with  the  tread  of  marching 
feet. 


155 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN:  RAIL- 
SPLITTER 

CHARACTERS 

Abraham  Lincoln 
Nancy  Lincoln 
Tom  Bush 
Amy  Roby 
Polly  Prentice 
Jason  Brown 
Lucy  Brown 
Francois  Durand 
Little  John  Lincoln 
Noctah,  an  Indian 

Scene:  The  Lincoln  kitchen  and  living-room. 
Place:  Little  Pigeon  Creek,  Indiana.     Time,  1823. 

The  room  is  bright  and  clean,  showing  both  thrift 
and  poverty.  There  are  two  windows  in  background, 
with  well-mended,  faded  curtains  of  the  cheapest  cot- 
ton. Between  these  two  windows  a  stout  door,  which 
gives  on  the  outside  road.  On  the  door  is  tacked  a 
raccoon  skin. 

By  the  window  at  right  a  plain  pine  table  and  chair. 
The  end  of  the  table  is  set  with  a  plate,  knife,  fork, 

156 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN:  RAIL-SPLITTER     157 

drinking-cup,  etc.,  for  one  person,  and  there  are  corn- 
dodgers  in  generous  quantities,  and  a  jug  of  molasses. 

In  the  middle  of  the  right  wall  there  is  a  wide- 
mouthed  fireplace,  with  black  andirons,  several  iron 
pots,  and  a  skillet.  Above  the  hearth  strips  of  leather 
nailed  to  the  wall  serve  as  holders  for  empty  powder- 
horns,  knives,  etc.  There  is  a  pine  bench  by  the  hearth, 
placed  so  that  those  sitting  on  it  face  the  audience. 
Also  a  three-legged  pine  stool.  Beyond  the  hearth, 
towards  the  background,  a  dresser  with  a  few  dishes. 

Fastened  to  the  wall,  left  foreground,  is  a  pine  shelf 
on  which  stand  Abraham  Lincoln  s  books,  well-worn 
copies  of  "  Robinson  Crusoe,"  "  JEsop's  Fables,"  "  Pil- 
grim's Progress,"  etc.,  etc.  Above  this  shelf  a  clock, 
battered  yet  adequate*  A  bearskin  rug  on  the  floor. 
The  whole  scene  is  homely,  peaceful,  intimate. 

The  embers  on  the  hearth  give  out  a  dull  glow 
which  leaves  the  room  in  semi-darkness,  yet  lights  up 
several  objects  by  the  hearthstone — namely,  a  heap  of 
pine  cones,  some  dried  spice-wood  bushes,  a  rude  corn- 
popper,  a  snow-shovel,  and  a  neatly-mended  tongs. 

In  the  frosty  out-of-doors  the  wind  blows  gustily 
from  time  to  time.  Otherwise  the  room  is  quite  still, 
save  for  the  ticking  of  the  clock,  which  points  to  half- 
past  seven.  For  a  moment  after  the  curtain  s  rise  the 
stage  is  deserted.  Then  come  two  brisk  knocks  at  the 
door,  and  it  is  opened  from  without  by  Polly  Prentice, 
who  first  thrusts  in  her  head,  looks  about,  and  then 
crosses  the  threshold,  speaking  back  over  her  shoulder 
to  Amy  Roby  and  Tom  Bush.     Polly  wears  a  scarlet 


158       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

cloak,  and  her  cheeks  are  as  red  as  apples.     All  carry 
lanterns. 

Polly. 

There's  no  one  home.  Wherever  can  Nancy  be? 
She  said  if  she  wasn't  here  we  were  to  wait  for  her. 
Come  in,  Amy,  and  you,  too,  Tom  Bush,  and  be  care- 
ful to  close  the  door.  (All  enter.)  The  fire  is  nearly 
spent.  B-rrrrrr!  It's  a  cold  night  for  this  time  of 
year.  My  fingers  are  tingling.  That's  right,  Tom, 
put  on  some  spice  bushes  for  a  blaze.  I'll  put  my  lan- 
tern over  here  by  yours,  Amy.     What  time  is  it? 

Amy. 

Half-past  seven.  I  wish  that  Nancy  would  hurry. 
The  corn-husking  begins  at  eight,  and  we  are  to  call 
for  Jason  Brown  and  Lucy  before  we  start. 

Tom 

(warming  his  hands). 

Yes,  and  come  back  here  to  have  Abe  go  with  us. 
He's  been  out  in  the  woods  all  day,  swinging  that  ax  of 
his.     I   could   hear  him   down  by  the  spring. 

Polly. 

There's  his  supper  set  out  for  him — corn-dodgers 
and  molasses. 

Amy 

(primly). 

Polly,  it  isn't  nice  to  look  at  things  in  other  people's 
houses ! 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN:  RAIL-SPLITTER     159 

Polly 

(saucily). 

You  looked  at  the  clock  only  a  minute  ago,  and  I'm 
sure  Abe's  supper  is  as  easily  seen  as  the  clock  is! 
Easier,  too,  if  you  happen  to  be  glancing  that  way.  I 
wish  that  Nancy  would  hurry! 

Tom 
(as  they  seat  themselves  about  fire). 
And  I  wish  that  Abe  would  hurry.    He  must  be  try- 
ing for  luck. 

Polly. 
Luck? 

Tom. 

Yes,  you  know  they  say  that  rails  split  by  moon- 
light bring  folks  good  fortune.  Not  that  Abe  needs 
good  fortune — he's  lucky  at  everything  he  puts  his 
hand  to.  He  can  shoulder  an  ax  and  swing  it  better 
than  any  one  I  ever  saw,  and  as  for  his  books — there's 
no  one  who  can  beat  him. 

Polly. 
He's  always  at  them — even  after  a  hard  day's  work. 

Tom. 

There's  nothing  he  won't  read  if  he  can  get  his 
hands  on  it,  and  at  spelling  he's  head  of  his  class  every 
time. 


160       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Amy 
(amused). 
You'd  think  he  was  a  hero,  Tom,  the  way  you  talk. 

Tom 

(eyes  a-light). 

Well,  sometimes  he  does  seem  like  a  hero  to  me,  he's 
so  strong  and  clever  and  kind.  At  school  people  are 
always  coming  to  him  with  their  disputes,  and  out  of 
school,  too.  Even  the  Indians  respect  his  knowledge. 
And  with  it  all  he  can  see  a  joke  as  soon  as  anybody, 
and  isn't  a  bit  puffed  up.  And  then  I  like  him,  be- 
cause even  though  he's  quiet  and  it  takes  a  long  time  for 
him  to  get  angry,  when  he  does  get  angry  it's  on  the 
right  side.  I  think  some  day  he'll  be  a  great  lawyer. 
Come,  Amy,  what  do  you  think  he'll  be? 

Amy 

(m  isch  ievo  usly) . 

Well,  as  you  think  he  knows  so  much — almost  as 
much  as  Mr.  Andrew  Crawford — I  think  perhaps  he'll 
be  a  teacher. 

Tom. 

What  do  you  think  he'll  be,  Polly? 

Polly 

(absorbed  in  examining  corn-popper,  tongs,  etc.). 

I  don't  know.  Oh,  see!  He's  mended  the  tongs.  I 
saw  him  working  at  it  the  other  day.     (Facing  about, 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN:  RAIL-SPLITTER    i6r 

laughing.)     I'll  tell  you  what  I  think  he'll  be — he'll 

be   a   mender!     (To   Amy.)     Look  out,   Amy,   that's 

Abe's  precious  snow-shovel.     Dear  knows  why  he  has 

it  out  this  early.  A 

-    Amy. 

Because  paper  is  expensive,  goosey.     By  the  light  of 

some  pine  cones  he  can  figure  on  this,  and  then  scrape  it 

off  again.  ,_ 

Tom 

(admiringly). 

Nobody  but  Abe  would  think  of  such  a  thing.    I  tell 

you  the  day  will  come  when  we'll  be  proud  we  knew 

him.  . 

Amy 

(gaily). 

Bravo,  Tom!  You'll  be  making  speeches  soon,  or 
lead  in  our  next  debate. 

Abraham  Lincoln 

(speaking  from  outer  doorway,  ax  on  shoulder,  a  gaunt, 
raw  boned,  kindly-eyed  lad). 

Who  said  debate — f 

Amy 

(jumping  up  with  a  burst  of  delighted  laughter). 

There  he  is  now!  (To  Lincoln.)  If  any  word 
would  bring  you,  that  one  would,  I  know! 

Polly. 

Nancy  isn't  here.  She  said  we  were  to  wait.  Go  on 
with  your  supper,  Abe,  and  don't  mind  us.  I  know 
you're  hungry. 


162       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Lincoln. 

Thank  you,  I  will.  (Puts  by  ax  and  goes  towards 
table.)  Hungry!  I  feel  half-starved!  And  my  mus- 
cles are  as  stiff  as  boards.  (Turns.)  Here,  Tom,  I'm 
a  fine  host — neglecting  my  guests!  There's  the  corn- 
popper,  and  (diving  hand  into  cupboard  and  bringing 
out  a  bag)  there's  the  corn! 

Nancy 

(appearing  in  the  outer  door  with  Francois  Durand, 
and  little  John  Henry). 

And  here's  Nancy  with  a  bag  of  salt,  just  in  time. 

I'm  glad  you  all  waited  for  me.     Come  to  the  fire, 

Francois. 

Francois 
i 

(shyly  to  all,  as  they  kindly  make  way  for  him). 
Bonsoir!    Bonsoir! 

Nancy 

(rattling  on). 

B-rrrrr!  It's  chilly.  It's  nice  to  be  in  by  the  fire. 
How's  your  supper,  Abe?    I  fixed  it  for  you. 

Lincoln 

(genially). 

It's  fine,  Nancy,  thank  you.  (Goes  back  to  table  and 
half-smiles,  dryly-humorous.)  And  the  best  thing  about 
it  is  that  there's  enough  of  it!  (To  John.)  Well, 
John,  how  are  you? 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN:  RAIL-SPLITTER    163 

John 
(drawling,  wide-eyed,  childlike), 
'Did  you  see  any  bears  in  the  woods? 

Lincoln 

(with  a  twinkle,  solemnly  imitating  him). 

No,  I  didn't  see  any  bea-r-s  in  the  woods;  but  I 
brought  home  some  nuts  for  you!     (Gives  them.) 

[Frangois,  under  pantomimic  urging  from  the 
group  around  the  fire,  has  taken  up  his  fiddle, 
tunes  it,  and  from  a  mere  ghost  of  an  air 
breaks  into  a  gay  tune.  Little  John  Henry 
takes  the  corn-popper,  swaying  it  in  time  to 
the  music,  while  the  rest,  with  the  exception 
of  Lincoln,  do  a  step  or  so  of  an  old-fashioned 
reel.  Lincoln  watches  them  as  he  eats. 
John  watches  them  also,  to  the  detriment  of 
the  corn-popping. 

Nancy 
(pausing  in  dance,  with  little  shriek  of  dismay). 
Oh,  mercy!     The  corn!     I  smell  it  burning! 

All 

(gathering  about  her,  and  thus  hiding  corn-popper  from 

view  of  audience). 

Is  it  burnt?     No!     Yes!     No!     Oh,   it's  saved. 
(Lincoln,  who  has  risen,  goes  back  to  his  supper.) 


164       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

John. 
I  didn't  mean  to! 

Nancy 

(relenting). 

But  when  Frangois  plays  the  fiddle  you  can't  think 
of  anything  else,  eh? 

Amy 

(as  they  group  themselves  in  fire-glow). 

Sit  over  here,  Nancy.     Isn't  the  corn  splendid? 

Lincoln 

(from  where  he  is  sitting). 

Any  news,  Tom?  How's  the  wolf-hunting  getting 
on?    Anybody  got  one? 

Tom. 

I  heard  in  the  store  to-night  that  Hugh  Foster  had 
killed  one.  It  may  be  only  a  rumor.  You're  not  fond 
of  hunting,  are  you,  Abe? 

Lincoln. 

Oh,  I  try  at  it  once  in  a  while,  Tom,  but  I'm  not 
very  keen.     You  boys  get  more  out  of  it  than  I  do. 

Tom. 
Remember  the  raccoon  hunt  we  had  last  summer? 

Lincoln. 

Yes,  I  remember.  (Facing  about.)  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  Tom,  I  don't  mind  if  things  have  to  be  killed 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN:  RAIL-SPLITTER    165 

outright ;  but  I  hate  to  see  them  in  cages.    I  like  to  see 
'em  free, 

Tom. 
I  know  you  do,  Abe. 

Polly 
(merrily). 
Oh,  Abe,  before  you  came  we  were  all  guessing 


Lincoln. 
Guessing? 

Polly 

(nodding). 

What  you  were  going  to  be.  Tom  said  you'd  be  a 
lawyer.  Amy  said  you'd  be  a  great  teacher,  and  I  said 
you'd  be  a  mender! 

Lincoln 

(slowly). 

A  mender — !  I  never  once  thought  of  being  a 
mender,  Polly. 

Nancy 
(with  a  little  cry). 
Polly  Prentice,  look!    Look  what  the  time  is!    Ten 
minutes  to  eight!    We'll  be  late  for  the  corn-husking. 

Lincoln 

(surprised). 
Corn-husking  ? 


166       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Polly 
(dancing  about). 

Didn't  you  know  there  was  to  be  one?  Oh,  I 
thought  we'd  surprise  you!  We're  all  going.  You, 
too. 

[Lincoln  shakes  his  head. 

Polly 

(pouting). 

That  means  you  think  you  have  to  study.  Oh, 
Abe—! 

Nancy 

(aside). 

Don't  tease  him,  Polly.  After  we've  called  for  Jason 
and  Lucy  we'll  come  back  this  way — gracious!  Look 
how  the  minutes  are  flying!  We  must  be  starting. 
Where  did  I  put  my  cloak?  Oh,  here  it  is!  Hurry, 
Amy! 

[They  all  dart  out  the  door  with  every  sign  of 
haste,  little  John  following  as  fast  as  his  legs 
can  carry  him.  Sounds  of  laughter  from 
without,  growing  fainter. 

Lincoln 

(to  himself). 

A  corn-husking — ! 

[Shakes  his  head.  Goes  over  and  gets  a  book, 
and  stretches  out  in  front  of  fire.     A  pause. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN:  RAIL-SPLITTER     167 

NOCTAH 

(quietly  entering). 
How! 

Lincoln 

(turning). 
How! 

[Noctah,  with  the  quiet  of  an  accustomed  visi- 
tor, sits  on  bench  by  fire:  pulls  out  a  long 
pipe. 

Lincoln 

(after  a  pause,  looking  up). 
Supper? 

Noctah. 

No.  Noctah  only  want  to  warm  at  fire.  Like  to 
watch  Lincoln.    Lincoln  get  wisdom  out  of  books. 

Lincoln 

(ruefully). 

Not  so  much  as  I'd  like  to,  Noctah.  The  books  are 
so  few  that  it's  just  learning  by  littles.* 

Noctah. 

Other  people  much  talk.  Lincoln  heap  silent:  heap 
thinking.  (Taps  forehead.)  Other  people  try  to  cheat 
Indian.     Lincoln  heap  honest. 

*  Lincoln's  own  words. 


1 68       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Lincoln 

(twinkling). 

Oh,  come  now,  Noctah.  I  guess  we're  all  pretty- 
honest  hereabout. 

[A  pause,  during  which  Lincoln  stares  at  the 
fire,  above  his  book. 

Noctah. 
Lincoln  look  at  fire.    See  visions  of  future. 

Lincoln. 
There  won't  be  any  future  if  I  don't  work  for  it! 

[Studies  again. 
Noctah. 

Umph!  re      a     * -a  •/ 

[o  mokes  pipe:  a  silence. 

Lincoln 
(after  a  moment  or  so,  looking  up). 
Anything  I  can  do  for  you,  Noctah? 

Noctah. 

No.     Noctah  want  nothing. 

[Another  short  silence.  Noctah  smokes.  Lin- 
coln studies.  Then  Noctah  moves  towards 
door. 

Lincoln 
(looking  up). 

Going,  Noctah?  You  know  you're  welcome  to  stay 
if  you  want  to.  (Noctah  continues  impassively  to- 
wards door.)    Well,  then,  good-night. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN:  RAIL-SPLITTER     169 

NOCTAH. 

Good-night.  [Exit  Noctah. 

\_A  moment  later  there  comes  the  sound  of 
Frangois'  fiddle,  and  the  same  gay  group 
breaks  into  the  room,  augmented  by  Jason 
and  Lucy  Brown.  They  surround  Lincoln, 
who  has  risen. 

Tom. 

Now,  Abe,  you  know  you  like  a  husking  better  than 
anything  else. 

Lincoln. 

Better  than  most  things,  Tom;  but  not  better  than 
all. 

[Looks  toward  his  books. 

Jason 
(coaxing). 
Come  on,  Abe,  it's  no  fun  without  you. 

Lincoln 
(decidedly). 
Not  to-night,  Jason. 

Francois. 
You'll  miss  ze  husking,  Abe. 

Lincoln. 

I  know  that,  Frangois;  but  then  I'll  gain — so  much 
else!  (Looks  again  towards  his  beloved  books.) 
There's  husking  to  do  there,  Frangois. 


170       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

Nancy. 
You'll  be  sitting  here  all  lonely,  without  any  friends. 

Lincoln 
(with  one  of  his  rare  smiles). 
Without  any  friends — !     Why,   Nancy! 

[Glances  towards  his  books  for  a  third  time. 

Polly 

(with  a  sniff). 

He  means  that  he'd  rather  have  Defoe  and  Bunyan 
and  iEsop  than  us. 

Lincoln. 
Now,  Polly. 

Polly 

(with  conviction). 
You  would.    You  know  you  would. 

Jason. 

Then  you're  not  coming? 

Lincoln. 

No,  boys,  I'm  not  coming.  I  tell  you,  it's  like  split- 
ting rails.  Once  you  get  tired  or  give  up,  your  work 
gets  the  better  of  you.  I  mean  to  stick  to  what  I've  set 
out  to  do. 

Tom 
(regretfully). 
Well,  then,  good-night,  Abe. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN:  RAIL-SPLITTER     171 

Lincoln 

(with  the  utmost  friendliness). 

Good-night.    Good-night.     (With  a  general  stir  and 

in  the  midst  of  a  chorus  of  leave-taking,  he  sees  them  to 

the  door.)     Watch  your  lantern,  Amy.     Good-night. 

Good-night,  all. 

[For  a  moment  he  stands  and  there  comes  to 
him  the  sound  of  laughter  and  retreating 
footsteps,  and  a  gay  lilt  from  Franqois*  fiddle. 
As  the  sound  grows  fainter  and  fainter  he 
crosses  resolutely  to  the  hearth,  tosses  on  a 
cone  or  two,  places  the  shovel  where  it  will 
be  within  easy  reach,  and  stretches  himself  on 
the  floor  before  the  fire. 
From  outside  a  sudden  gust  of  wind  brings 
clearly  a  last  snatch  of  the  air  that  Franqois 
is  playing  in  the  distance.  Lincoln  raises  his 
head  and  listens,  smiles  whimsically  to  him- 
self, and  then  opens  his  books. 

Lincoln. 

And  now  for  the  husking! 

[He  lies  full  length,  absorbedly  studying  in  the 
fire- glow  as  the  curtain  falls. 

COSTUMES 

Abraham   Lincoln.     Blue   flannel  shirt.     Faded 
black  knee-breeches  and  much-worn  coat.     Tall  boots 


172       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

which  he  wears  for  out-of-doors,  and  changes  for  old 
slippers. 

Polly.  A  brown  woolen  dress  and  scarlet  cloak. 
Hair  worn  in  quaint  fashion  with  combs. 

Nancy  Lincoln.  Dark-scarlet  woolen  dress,  and 
brown  cloak.  All  the  dresses  of  the  girls  are  of  the 
simplest.    Their  cloaks  likewise. 

Amy  Roby.  Deep-blue  woolen  dress.  Little  white 
apron  with  pockets.    Dark-blue  cloak  with  hood. 

Lucy  Brown.     Dark-green  woolen  dress  and  cloak. 

Tom  Bush.  Dark-brown  flannel  shirt.  Dark-blue 
knee-breeches. 

Jason  Brown.  Faded  red  flannel  shirt.  Dark-blue 
knee-breeches. 

Francois  Durand.  Tan-colored  flannel  shirt. 
Dark-brown  knee-breeches.     Crimson  sash-belt. 

Noctah.  The  usual  Indian  costume  of  buckskin. 
Fringed  tunic.  Long  trousers.  Moccasins,  or  imita- 
tion moccasins  of  khaki.  (The  suit  should  be  of  khaki 
also — the  nearest  imitation  of  buckskin.)  He  should 
wear  a  wig  of  long,  coarse  black  hair.  If  this  wig 
cannot  be  had,  simulate  it  thus:  make  a  tight-fitting 
skull-cap  of  black  cheesecloth.  Stitch  it  where  the 
parting  in  the  hair  should  come.  Make  two  braids  of 
plaited  black  cheesecloth,  and  fasten  them  to  the  skull- 
cap so  that  they  will  fall  over  the  ears.  They  should 
be  bound  with  a  few  wisps  of  red  and  green.  Noctah 
wears  neither  war-paint  nor  feathers,  but  his  face  and 
hands  should  be  stained  brown. 


DIRECTIONS 

FOR    INDOOR    ARRANGEMENT    OF    THE 
PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

While  an  outdoor  stage  is  by  far  the  best  setting  for 
a  pageant  there  are  times  and  seasons  when  such  a 
setting  is  not  obtainable,  and  the  indoor  pageant  be- 
comes advisable.  And  while  no  number  of  footlights 
can  hope  to  give  the  actual  radiance  of  sunlight  and 
blue  sky,  the  indoor  pageant  has  several  assets,  in  its 
favor.  It  lends  itself  to  such  festivals  as  Lincoln's 
and  Washington's  birthdays,  and  its  performers  need 
have  no  fear  of  rain.  Its  dancers  are  sure  of  a  level 
space.  Its  woodland  scenes  can  be  arranged  to  suit  the 
occasion,  and  the  enhancing  effects  of  fire-glow,  sun- 
rise, or  dimming  twilight  can  be  obtained  as  in  no 
other  way. 

If  a  painted  forest  scene  cannot  be  had,  tree  branches 
fastened  to  green  screens  placed  right,  left,  and  back- 
ground can  be  made  to  do  for  the  outdoor  setting. 
The  screens  can  be  covered  with  forest-green  burlap  or 
cheesecloth.  Real  pine  trees,  in  stands  covered  with 
green  to  imitate  bank  of  moss,  are  very  effective. 
For  a  log  to  be  used  as  a  seat,  two  vinegar  barrels 
fastened    together,    covered    with    bark-brown    burlap 

173 


174       THE  PAGEANT  OF  PATRIOTS 

splashed  with  green  paint  for  moss  and  white  for  lichen. 
Red  electric  light  bulbs  half  hidden  under  fagots  for 
the  outdoor  fire  effect. 

The  procession  at  the  end  can  cross  the  stage,  or 
march  through  the  assembly-room  or  hall  in  which 
the  pageant  is  given.  An  armory  or  large  gymnasium 
is  an  ideal  place  in  which  to  give  the  indoor  arrange- 
ment of  the  pageant  if  the  stage  of  a  small  audi- 
torium or  theater  is  not  procurable.  Many  of  the 
directions  for  the  producing  of  the  outdoor  pageant  can 
be  applied  to  the  indoor  one,  and,  therefore,  those  who 
direct  the  indoor  arrangement  of  the  pageant  are  re- 
ferred to  the  outdoor  arrangement.  The  directions  for 
the  final  tableau,  the  march,  and  the  costume  of  The 
Spirit  of  Patriotism  will  be  found  there.  Throughout 
the  pageant,  its  entire  acts  and  marches,  patriotic  airs 
should  be  played  as  much  as  possible. 


THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 


THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

i.  Chorus  of   Spirits  of  the   Old  Manse 

2.  Prologue  by  the   Muse  of   Hawthorne 

3.  First  Episode  (In  Witchcraft  Days) 

4.  Dance  Interlude 

5.  Second  Episode   (Merrymount) 

6.  Procession  of  Player  Folk 


CHORUS  OF  SPIRITS  OF  THE 

OLD  MANSE 

From  the  dim  world  of  dreams 

Fraught  with  shadows  and  gleams 

We  entreat  you  and  beckon  and  call. 

Heed  and  harken  you  well, 

Lend  your  hearts  to  our  spell, 

Let  the  soul  of  the  Past  hold  you  thrall. 

Radiant,  mystical,  free 

Unseen  spirits  were  we 

As  we  guarded  the  Manse  long  ago; 

Moving  soft  through  each  room 

In  the  twilight's  gray  gloom 

While  the  fire  on  the  hearth  flickered  low. 

Hope  and  joy — these  we  brought; 

Peace  and  fair  dreams  we  wrought 

For  the  Manse  whose  bright  hearth  was  our  goal. 

Oh,  then  harken  you  well! 

Lend  your  hearts  to  our  spell, 

Let  the  tide  of  the  years  backward  roll. 


PROLOGUE 

(Spoken  by   the  Muse  of  Hawthorne) 

Ye  who  have  known  the  great  Enchanter's  art, 
Whose  magic  fired  your  brain  and  stirred  your  heart, 
Whose  touch,  more  potent  than  King  Midas'  gold, 
Wrought  Tales  of  Tanglewood  and  Tales  Twice  Told, 
Whose  Marble  Faun  and  Mosses  from  the  Manse 
Still  hold  the  lasting  colors  of  Romance; 
Who  built  for  you  the  Hall  of  Fantasy 
Through  whose  bright  portals  you  might  pass  and  see 
Hester  and  Miriam  and  Goodman  Brown 
And  Pyncheron,  who  dwelt  in  Salem  Town — 
Malvin  and  Endicott  and  Ethan  Brand, 
John  Inglefield  and  that  old  crone  whose  hand 
Was  lent  to  fashioning  Scarecrows  built  of  straw — 
All  these  through  the  Enchanter's  eyes  you  saw, 
Strange  folk  who  trod  the  bleak  New  England  shores, 
Tithingmen,  Sachems,  Witches,  Sagamores, 
Puritans,  Soldiers,  Scholars,  Quaker  maids, 
Royalists  splendid  in  their  rich  brocades! 
To-day  the  past  has  opened  wide  her  door, 
Scenes  long  since  gone  return  to  us  once  more, 
Touched  with  the  alchemy  of  history's  gold. 

178 


PROLOGUE  179 

First,   ancient   Salem,   as  it  was,  behold 
In  the  grim  days  when  "  Witchcraft!  "  was  the  cry, 
When  folk  declared  that  they  saw  witches  fly 
On  devil's  broomsticks  straight  across  the  moon, 
While  the  wind  piped  by  night  a  witch's  tune; 
When,  e'en  by  day,  intrepid  witch-wives  spoke, 
Then  vanished  upward  through  the  chimney  smoke! 
The  Witches'  Wood — this  our  first  scene  will  show, 
And  all  that  once  transpired  there  long  ago. 

Our  second  scene  will  picture  Merrymount 
Where  lived  gay  royalists  who  took  no  count 
Of  Puritanic  manners,  and  who  sang 
And  laughed  till  all  the  woods  about  them  rang 
With  outlaw  merriment.     These  you  will  see 
Engaged  in  maypole  dance  and  minstrelsy, 
While  Puritans  with  grave  and  somber  mien 
Condemn  such  light-foot  revels  on  the  green! 
These  have  you  known  on  Hawthorne's  living  page. 
Now  shall  you  see  them  pictured  on  our  stage. 
Grant  us  your  patience:  lend  your  ears  as  well. 
The  rest  our  pageant  now  will  strive  to  tell. 


IN  WITCHCRAFT  DAYS 

CHARACTERS 

Goody  Gurton  Dorcas  Wordell 

Philippe  Beaucceur  Anne  Brown 

Vigilant  Winthrop  Repentance  Folger 

Holdfast  Bradford  Roger  Blackthorne 

John  Giles  Fear-NoughtCaldwell 

Goodwife        Prudence  Renounce  Wilton 

Hubbard  Tabitha  Brett 

Mercy  Hubbard  Fawnfoot,     an     Indian 

Barbara  Williams,  her  maiden 

playmate  Goodwife  Abigail  Wil- 
liams 

The  scene  is  an  open  glade  near  Salem,  i6q2. 

Trees  right,  left,  and  background.  Flowers.  Ferns. 
Berry-vines.  Herbs.  Tabitha  Brett,  a  Puritan  child, 
enters  from  left.  She  carries  a  quaint  pewter  bowl, 
and  looking  about  her  spies  berries,  whereupon  she 
calls  back  over  her  shoulder  to  Renounce  Wilton. 

Tabitha 

(calling). 

Renounce!  There  are  berries  here!  Yet  not  so 
many  as  Goodwife  Prudence  Hubbard  bade  us  bring. 
Perhaps  'tis  too  near  the  edge  of  the  town,  and  others 
have  been  before  us. 

1 80 


IN  WITCHCRAFT  DAYS  181 

Renounce 
(entering  from  left). 
Others  before  us — Do  you  mean  witches,  Tabitha? 

Tabitha. 

Hush !    Speak  not  that  word !    There  are  no  witches 
flying  in  the  daytime! 

Renounce 
(wide-eyed). 
But  at  night,  Tabitha,  who  can  tell  how  many 
witches  may  be  abroad?  Dost  thou  not  know  that 
this  is  ofttimes  called  the  "  Witches'  Wood "  and 
Holdfast  Bradford  says  that  on  the  stroke  of  mid- 
night 'tis  here  that  they  foregather.  Canst  thou  not 
picture  them  whirling  over  the  tree-tops? 

Tabitha 
(with  a  cry). 
Be  still,  Renounce  Wilton!  Oh,  what  was  that? 
(Clutches  her.)  A  shadow?  (With  more  com- 
posure.) If  you  do  talk  of  witches  we  shall  lose  half 
the  berries  we  have  gathered,  and  Goodwife  Hubbard 
will  scold  us  roundly. 

[Eats  a  few  berries. 
Renounce. 
You  should  not  eat  the  berries,  Tabitha. 

Tabitha. 
I  know.     But  they  are  so  sweet.     As  sweet  as  the 
barley  sugar  Goody  Gurton  gives  us. 


182       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

Renounce. 

I  marvel  that  our  mothers  let  us  hunt  for  berries  at 
all. 

Tabitha 

(childishly). 

Aye,  'tis  not  often  they  are  minded  to  let  us  stray 
to  the  edge  of  the  forest.  I  think  there  is  something 
stirring  that  we  are  not  to  hear,  and  that  is  why  our 
fingers  are  kept  busy.  My  mother  and  Goodwife 
Prudence  Hubbard  were  deep  in  talk  together;  but 
when  I  passed  they  put  their  fingers  on  their  lips. 

Renounce 
(pretending  to  be  vastly  impressed). 
Did  they  so! 

Tabitha 
(looking  about  her). 
I  wish  I  knew  where  some  wild  plums  grew. 

Renounce 
(as  they  continue  to  gather  berries). 
Philippe  Beaucoeur  could  tell  us,  did  he  but  wish  to. 

Tabitha. 

Renounce  Wilton!  I  am  ashamed  of  thee!  Thou 
dost  not  mean  that  thou  hast  held  converse  with 
Philippe  Beaucoeur,  who  is  half  French  and  lives  in 
the  woods  like  an  Indian. 


IN  WITCHCRAFT  DAYS  183 

Renounce 

(with  spirit). 

I  will  hold  converse  with  whom  I  please,  Tabitha 
Brett.  French  or  no  French,  Philippe  Beaucceur  is  a 
brave  lad,  and  there  is  naught  about  the  wild  things 
that  he  does  not  know.  'Twas  because  he  lives  in 
the  forest  and  not  in  Salem  Town  as  we  do. 

Tabitha 

(in  an  awed  voice). 

Have  you  ever  seen  the  place  where  Philippe  lives? 
Barbara  Williams  says  it  a  fearsome  spot.  The  for- 
ests about  it  are  all  black  and  solemn,  and  the  pines 
seem  to  whisper  together,  and  there  Philippe  dwells  in 
a  hut  he  himself  hath  builded. 

Renounce 

(sagely). 

They  say  he  hath  dwelt  alone  there  ever  since  his 
father  died.  Think  of  it!  In  the  forest!  I  should 
fear  the  Indians!  But  then,  I  am  not  like  Betty  Hub- 
bard, who  hath  no  fears  at  all.  And  as  for  Philippe 
Beaucoeur,  there  is  naught  that  can  make  him  tremble. 
He  says  that  'tis  on  account  of  his  "  ancestree."  And 
then  he  laughs  and  makes  a  gesture:  "Blue  blood  of 
France  is  never  chilled  by  terror,  Mistress." 

Tabitha. 

"Blue  blood  of  France — !"  Who  ever  heard  the 
like?     I  never  saw  blue  blood,  nor  didst  thou!     The 


1 84       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

color  of  blood  is  scarlet,  as  thou  knowest  right  well. 
Prick  thy  ringer  and  see! 

Dorcas  Wordell 
(off  stage,  left). 
Tabitha  Brett!     Tabitha  Brett!     Where  are  you? 


Tabitha 

(calling  in  answer). 

Here,  Dorcas,  here!  Renounce  Wilton  and  I  are 
gathering  berries. 

Dorcas 

(entering  excitedly). 

You'll  gather  no  more  berries  when  you've  heard  the 
news.  Sure,  there  be  stirring  things  afoot  this  day  in 
Salem.  What  dost  think?  Barbara  Williams  hath 
been  bewitched! 

Renounce. 
Dorcas ! 

Dorcas 

(importantly). 

Aye,  since  yesternight  she  hath  clean  disappeared. 
The  evening  meal  was  set:  she  did  not  come.  They 
have  searched  the  woods,  and  the  marshland,  and  the 
roadways.  'Tis  plain  she  hath  been  spirited  away,  and 
Goodwife  Abigail  Williams  is  nigh  out  of  her  mind. 
But  now  that  they've  found  the  witch 


IN  WITCHCRAFT  DAYS  185 

Tabitha 
(eagerly). 


Found  her- 


Dorcas 

(triumphantly). 

Aye,  found  her!  And  you'll  never  guess  who  'tis! 
Hark!  They're  coming!  She  was  hobbling  this  way 
as  I  passed,  little  dreaming  that  her  evil  deeds  would 
find  her  out  so  soon!  The  half  o'  Salem  must  be  at 
her  heels.     Look!     Look! 

Goody  Gurton's  Voice 

(from   left,  a  cry   of  terror). 

I  am  no  witch.  Good  sirs,  I  am  no  witch.  Mercy! 
Mercy! 

Renounce 

(startled) . 

'Tis  Goody  Gurton's  voice!  Why,  she  is  a  poor 
old  woman  who  hath  never  done  harm  to  any. 

Cries 
(oft  stage Jeft). 

A  witch!     A  witch!     A-aaaaah!     A  witch! 

[The  crowd  surges  in  from  left,  dragging  in 
the  midst  of  it  poor  old  Goody  Gurton. 
They  separate  and  form  a  wide  semicircle  of 
which  Holdfast  Bradford  and  trembling 
Goody    Gurton    form    the    center.      In    the 


186       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

crowd  are  Goodwife  Williams,  Goodwife 
Hubbard,  Mercy  Hubbard,  Goodwife 
Brown,  Repentance  Folger,  Vigilant  Win- 
throp,  John  Giles,  Roger  Blackthorne,  and 
other  people  of  Salem. 

Bradford. 

Silence,  and  look!  Look,  people  of  Salem!  You 
know  this  spot  right  well.  'Tis  here  that  witches  are 
reported  to  hold  their  wicked  revels.  What  better 
place  have  we  in  which  to  try  a  witch?  Custom  hath 
had  it  aforetime  that  we  have  tried  them  in  the  court- 
house. Now  let  us  try  them  on  their  own  ground. 
'Twill  show  that  we  fear  neither  them  nor  their 
master.  Neither  their  black  books,  nor  their  caldron's 
brew.  Stand  forth,  Goody  Gurton,  the  accused.  What 
have  you  to  say?  There  is  the  woman  whose  child 
you  have  bewitched  and  stolen. 

Goody  Gurton 
(in  a  trembling,  aged  voice). 
I  stole  no  child.     I  have  bewitched  no  one.     I  am  a 
poor  old  woman,  as  you  all  know.     I  get  my  living  by 
my  needle,  and  my  brews  of  herbs. 

Bradford. 

Stand  forth,  Abigail.  Is  it  not  true  that  half  the 
town  hath  searched  for  Barbara  Williams  since  yes- 
terday at  sundown,  and  not  a  trace  of  her  hath  been 
found  ? 


IN  WITCHCRAFT  DAYS  187 

Goodwife  Williams 
(wildly). 

Aye,  'tis  true!  My  child  has  gone  from  me!  She 
is  bewitched  and  stolen!  Bewitched  and  stolen! 
Everywhere  I  looked  and  found  no  token:  but  at  the 
door  of  Goody  Gurton  I  found  this! 

[Holds  up  small  white  Puritan  cap. 

The  Crowd. 
A-aaaaaah ! 

Bradford. 

How  came  this  cap  to  your  door,  Goody  Gurton? 

Goody  Gurton 

(in   a  shaking  voice). 

The  children  often  visit  me  for  sweetmeats.  I  gave 
the  child  a  little  barley  sugar.  She  may  have  dropped 
the  cap.     I  do  not  know. 

Bradford. 
Where  did  she  turn  after  she  left  your  doorway? 

Goody  Gurton. 

I  did  not  look  which  way  she  went.  I  do  not  know. 
Oh,  worshipful  sir 

Bradford. 
Silence !    Who  else  accuses  Goody  Gurton  ? 


1 88       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

Goodwife  Hubbard. 

We've  seen  strange  things  about,  have  we  not,  neigh- 
bors? 

All. 
Aye !    Aye ! 

Goodwife  Hubbard. 

Last  night  the  wind  wailed  in  my  chimney.  And 
when  I  crossed  the  fields  at  twilight  I  had  a  feeling 
that  something  followed  me. 

Mercy  Hubbard 

(piping  up). 

And  Goodman  Folger's  cow  hath  died  since  yes- 
ternight. And  Goody  Gurton  was  seen  going  by  the 
pasture. 

Vigilant  Winthrop. 

Aye,  there  be  many  signs.    Last  night  the  moon  rose 

red. 

John  Giles. 

And  the  week  before  there  were  more  bats  flying 
than  I  have  ever  seen  in  Salem. 

Goodwife  Brown. 

And  Goodwife  Eaton  says  that  all  night  long  in 
the  woods  behind  her  house  there  is  something  crying — 
she  cannot  tell  whether  it  be  an  owl  or  a  child. 

Repentance  Folger. 

Last  eve,  when  the  wind  was  blowing,  something 
flapped  past  me  like  a  witch's  cloak. 


IN  WITCHCRAFT  DAYS  189 

Bradford. 

What  have  you  to  say  to  these  things,  Goody 
Gurton  ? 

Goody  Gurton 

(quite  simply). 

Why,  naught,  sir,  naught.  I  noted  myself  that 
last  week  the  moon  rose  red,  and  that  last  night  the 
wind  blew  shrewdly. 

Bradford. 

How  comes  it  that  you  were  leaving  the  streets 
of  Salem,  and  walking  here  in  the  forest?  'Twas 
here  in  the  forest  we  found  you. 

Goody  Gurton. 

I  came  to  hunt  for  some  simples  .  .  .  for  spear- 
mint and  checkerberry  and  tansy. 

Bradford 

(with  deep  sternness). 

And  for  wolfbane  and  hellbore  and  all  other  hideous 
herbs  that  witches  brew  in  their  caldrons.  You  stand 
accused,  Goody  Gurton. 

Goody  Gurton 

(bewildered). 
Accused  ? 

Bradford. 
Of   witchcraft. 


i go       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

The  Crowd 

(alternately  surging  close   to   her,  and  falling  back), 
A-aaah!     To  the  pond  with  her!     To  the  pond! 


John  Giles. 
If  she  sinks  she  is  a  witch,  if  she  swims- 


GOODY   GURTON. 

Have  mercy 

Good  wife  Hubbard 
(with   a  shiver). 
The  water  in  the  pond  is  deep  and  cold. 

Winthrop. 

Here  come  Caldwell  and  Blackthorne  with  a  duck- 
ing-chair. (Blackthorne  and  Caldwell  carry  between 
them  a  rude  chair  fashioned  hastily  from  wood  on  which 
the  bark  still  clings.)  Well  and  swiftly  fashioned, 
Blackthorne! 

Goody  Gurton. 

Mercy!  Mercy!  Gentle  sirs,  neighbors,  goodwives ! 
I  am  no  witch!  I  swear  it.  I  had  naught,  naught  to 
do  with  Barbara  Williams. 

Bradford. 

A  last  chance,  Goody.  Call  up  your  evil  powers. 
Bring  back  the  child,  and  it  shall  be  the  stocks;  but  not 
the  pond.     Call!     Call! 


IN  WITCHCRAFT  DAYS  191 

Goody  Gurton. 

I  have  no  words.  I  cannot  bring  her  back.  Mercy ! 
Mercy! 

Bradford 

(curtly). 
To  the  pond! 

Goody  Gurton 

(in  a  tremulous  shriek  as  Blackthorne  and  Caldwell  be- 
gin to   bind  her  in   the  ducking-chair). 

Oh,  no,  no,  no !  I  am  no  witch !  I  swear  it !  Will 
no  one  speak  for  me — will  no  one 

[Philippe  Beaucceur,  who  has  approached  from 
right  but  a  moment  before,  and  been  partly 
hidden  from  view  by  those  in  front  of  him, 
now  steps  forward  boldly.  The  knife  in  his 
red  sash-belt  glitters  in  the  sun.  His  dark 
face  is  a-light  with  interest.  His  bearing  is 
gallantly  determined. 

Philippe  Beaucceur. 
I  will  speak! 

Renounce. 
It  is  Philippe! 

Philippe 
(boldly). 

Stand  back,  Master  Bradford.  Be  not  so  swift 
with  your  ducking-chair,  Goodman  Caldwell.  By 
what  right  have  ye  bound  this  poor  old  woman? 


192       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

Bradford 
(angrily) . 
By  what  right  can  a  Jackanapes  confront  his  elders? 

Philippe 

(coolly). 

By  the  right  of  free  speech  in  a  free  country.  By 
the  right  of  seeing  defenseless  age  that  lacks  a  cham- 

GOODY   GURTON 

(her  voice  sunk  to  a  low  moan). 

Mercy!     Mercy! 

Philippe 

(gallantly  alert,  hand  on  knife). 

You  have  said  your  say  against  her.  Is  there  one 
who  hath  spoken  a  word  for  her? 

Bradford 

(blustering). 

He  has  no  right  to  confront  us.  He  is  not  of 
Salem. 

[Nevertheless,   since   Philippe   is   the   only    one 
armed,  none  step  forward  to  seize  him. 

Philippe 

(with  light  scorn). 

The  worshipful  Bradford  speaks  true.  I  dwell  in 
a  kinder  place.  The  forest  accuses  neither  man  nor 
woman.  Nay,  do  not  frown  at  me,  Holdfast  Brad- 
ford.    My  hand  is  as  well  matched  as  yours. 


IN  WITCHCRAFT  DAYS  193 

John  Giles. 

By  all  the  signs  she  is  a  witch.    The  moon  rose  red, 

and  the  wind 

The  Crowd 

(not  to  be  cheated). 

Aye !    Aye !  ~ 

J  J  Philippe. 

What  if  the  moon  rose  red?  What  if  the  wind 
wailed  in  the  chimney?  Are  ye  children  round  the 
nursery  fire  that  such  things  should  be  to  you  as  signs? 
Ye  have  seen  the  same  a  thousand  times  before.  Is 
this  all  ye  can  say  against  her?  Is  there  naught  ye 
can  say  for  her — ye  who  have  known  her  kindness? 
John  Giles,  who  sat  with  thy  brother  when  he  had 
the  fever?  Goodwife  Anne  Brown,  who  helped  thee 
keep  watch  the  night  thy  father's  ship  was  lost  at  sea? 
Tabitha  Brett,  who  healed  thy  childish  hurts,  and 
drove  away  thy  tears  with  sweetmeats?  Thrice  shame 
upon  you  all!     The  poor  old  woman! 

Goodwife  Williams 

(wildly). 

Let  her  give  back  my  child!  Here  is  the  cap  that 
I  found  on  her  door-sill. 

Philippe. 

Let    me    look    at    the    cap,    Goodwife    Williams. 

(Turns  it  inside  out.)     There  is  a  name  embroidered 

on  the  band.     (Reads.)     "  Hester  Wordell."    Not  thy 

child's  cap  at  all.  r  o-      ,    .    ,     L 

\_tiands  it  back. 


194       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

Goodwife  Williams. 
'Tis  more  witchcraft ! 

Philippe. 
And  is  that  witchcraft,  too? 

(A  child's  voice  in  the  woods  at  right  is  heard  singing:) 

"  In  May  I  go  a-walking  to  hear  the  linnets  sing, 
The  blackbird  and  the  throstle  a-praising  Queen  and 

King: 
It  cheers  the  heart  to  hear  them,  to  see  the  leaves  unfold, 
The  meadows  covered  over  with  buttercups  of  gold." 

Goodwife  Williams. 

'Tis  Barbara's  voice!  'Tis  Barbara!  (Enter  Bar- 
bara, fleet  as  a  shadow,  from  right,  followed  by  Fawn- 
foot.  Both  take  the  unconsciously  tripping  steps  that 
belong  to  the  wild  freedom  of  youth.)  It  is  my  child! 
Barbara!     Where   hast  thou   been   since   yesternight? 

Barbara. 

With   Fawnfoot  yonder.      She   taught   me  to   play 

games,  and  angle  for  fish,  and What  be  they 

staring  at? 

Bradford 

(dryly). 

Goodwife  Williams,  for  children  that  rouse  a  vil- 
lage there  is  but  one  remedy. 


IN  WITCHCRAFT  DAYS  195 

Goodwife  Williams 

(humbly). 
A  physic? 

Bradford 

(almost  roaring). 

No!  A  slipper!  See  that  it  is  administered.  And 
light  songs,  such  as  we  heard  but  now,  are  scarcely 
seemly  on  a  young  one's  lips.  She  should  learn  graver 
measures. 

[In  groups  of  twos  and  threes  the  Puritans 
solemnly  exeunt,  left,  Bradford  inarching 
ahead.  Fawnfoot,  with  agile  grace,  dis- 
appears into  background,  dancing  with  her 
own  shadow  as  she  goes.  Philippe  and  Goody 
Gurton  are  left  alone.  Philippe  bends  over 
the  due  king- chair,  and  with  his  knife  cuts 
the  thongs  which  bind  Goody  Gurton,  the 
while  he  talks,  half -tenderly,  half-gaily,  for 
the  first  time  allowing  a  hint  of  accent  to 
creep  into  his  speech. 

Philippe. 

They  do  not  even  stop  to  unbind  thee!  It  is  a 
strange  thing,  this  witchcraft,  that  so  turns  the  head! 

Goody  Gurton. 

You  do  for  me  what  others  do  not  do — you  whom 
I  have  scarcely  seen  before! 


196       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

Philippe. 

A  good  deed  sown  is  ofttimes  a  good  deed  reaped. 
So  say  they  in  la  belle  France,  and  my  tongue  loves  the 
words.  'Twas  long  ago  that  you  did  a  kindness  for  me 
when  my  father  lay  ill  of  a  fever;  but — I — I  have 
not  forgotten.  (He  cuts  the  final  thong  that  binds 
her.)  Whither  now,  Goody  Gurton?  Nay,  it  would 
seem  that  we  have  need  of  each  other.  For  you — a 
shoulder  to  lean  on:  for  me — often  I  am  lonely.  I 
think  what  it  would  mean  in  my  hut  in  the  forest  to 
look  up  and  see  a  grand'mere  sitting  there!  We  be 
two  outcasts;  but  the  woods  are  kind.  There  is  a 
song  about  that  oversea:  it  says — - 

(Sings) 

Blue  the  sky  above  you, 

Dans  la  foret; 
True  the  hearts  that  love  you, 
Courageux  et  gai! 

Come,  Grand'mere,  home! 

[They  exeunt  right,  he  bearing  himself  with  a 
proud  erectness,  she  leaning  upon  his  shoulder 
with  the  peaceful  dependence  of  a  soul  whose 
problem  is  solved.     The  scene  ends. 

COSTUMES 

The  Puritan  women  and  girls  wear  black  dresses 
with  white  lawn  kerchiefs  and  cuffs,  and  Puritan  caps. 
One  or  two  of  the  women  wear  black  cloaks,  falling 
to  the  edge  of  their  gowns.     The  material  of  which 


IN  WITCHCRAFT  DAYS  197 

these  dresses  and  cloaks  may  be  made  is  black  cambric 
with  the  glazed  side  turned  in.  The  kerchiefs  and 
cuffs  of  lawn  or  white  cheesecloth. 

For  the  men  and  lads  full  black  knee-breeches,  black 
doublets  with  the  sleeves  a  little  fulled ;  white  cuffs 
and  Puritan  collars.  Long  black  cloaks  ankle-length. 
Beaver  hats.  Any  well-illustrated  edition  of  "  Pil- 
grim's Progress  '  will  give  an  excellent  idea  of  these 
costumes.  (See  notes  on  Hawthorne  Pageant,  page 
220.) 

Philippe  Beaucgeur.  Philippe  Beaucceur  wears  a 
tan-colored  costume  cut  on  Indian  lines  (supposedly 
dressed  deerskin)  with  a  sash  of  scarlet,  such  as  the 
French  voyageurs  were  in  the  habit  of  wearing.  A 
fur  slung  across  his  shoulders  and  caught  at  his  girdle. 
The  costume  is  fringed,  Indian-like,  but  is  not  painted 
or  beaded.  The  breeches  come  to  the  knee.  Tan 
stockings  and  moccasins.  The  costume  made  of  cotton 
khaki. 

Fawnfoot.  The  typical  Indian  maiden  costume. 
Cotton  khaki,  gorgeously  painted  at  the  neck.  Bead 
chains  and  bracelets.  Tan  stockings.  Moccasins.  Hair 
worn  in  braids.  Scarlet  head-band  across  forehead. 
Black  quill. 

This  play  may  be  given  by  a  cast  of  girls.  (See  notes 
on   Hawthorne   Pageant.) 

Music.  The  song  which  Barbara  Williams  sings 
can  be  found  in  "  Songs  of  the  West,"  by  S.  Baring 
Gould.  ("Folk  Songs  of  Cornwall  and  Devon, 
collected  from  the  Mouths  of  the  People.") 


DANCE  INTERLUDE       ' 

The  dance  interlude  should  be  symbolic  of  the  spirit 
of  youth  as  exemplified  in  the  Indian  and  the  Puritan. 
The  music  is  MacDowell's  "  From  an  Indian  Lodge." 
The  two  players  taking  part  in  the  dance  are  Fawn- 
foot  and  Barbara  Williams.  The  little  Indian,  danc- 
ing in  the  woods  with  her  own  shadow,  tries  to  entice 
the  little  Puritan  into  following  her  steps.  Barbara 
hangs  back.  But  the  dance  proves  too  alluring.  She 
finally  tries  to  imitate  what  the  little  Indian  does;  but 
at  first  the  quick  motions  of  the  other  are  quite  be- 
yond her.  One  is  of  the  forest,  the  other  of  the  town ! 
Yet,  in  the  end,  the  little  Puritan  should  show  that 
she  has  caught  a  little  of  the  grace  and  freedom  of  her 
wild  playmate.  Good  pantomimic  dancing,  with  grace 
and  humor,  should  be  worked  into  this. 


MERRYMOUNT 

CHARACTERS 

Simon  Scarlett  Christopher      Carmel 
Sarah      Scarlett,     his         (Kit) 

sister  Goody  Gleason 

Will  Lackleather  Bess 

Moll  Resolute  Endicott 

Nan  Gillian  Pritchard 

Jock  Fight-for-Right     Nor- 

Tib  CROSS 

Joan  Amos  Warren 

Robin  Wakeless  Ebenezer  Matthews 

Faunch  Frugal  Hilton 

Scene:  An  open  glade  at  Merrymount  on  a  Sum- 
mer's day  in  1626.  Trees  right,  left,  and  background. 
In  the  center  of  the  stage  a  maypole  decked  with 
streaming  ribbons  that  are  somewhat  faded. 

Towards  the  left  background,  at  some  distance  from 
the  maypole,  a  forest  bed  of  pine  boughs,  sweet  fern, 
and  moss.  Not  far  from  this  bed,  towards  foreground, 
a  tiny  glimmer  of  fire,  over  whose  graying  ashes  is 
hung  a  small  iron  kettle.  Scattered  on  the  ground  by 
the  fire  a  goodly  number  of  iron  and  pewter  drinking- 
cups,  and  An  iron  skillet  for  brewing.      The  play  begins 

199 


aoo       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

by  the  entrance  of  Simon  Scarlett  from  the  left,  with 
a  troop  of  Merry  mounters  at  his  heels,  Faunch,  Nan, 
Moll,  Tib,  Joan,  and  Will  Lackleather.  All  wear 
tattered  finery.     That  of  Simon  matches  his  name. 

Scarlett. 

Hither!  Hither!  Come,  Faunch  the  fiddler,  give 
us  another  tune — one  that  will  set  the  echoes  of  Merry- 
mount  a-ringing,  and  make  the  lean  Puritans  in  the 
valley  to  hold  their  ears. 

All. 
A  tune!    A  tune! 

Faunch. 

What  tune  will  ye  have,  Simon  Scarlett? 

Scarlett. 

Let  it  be  a  maypole  dance,  Faunch  the  fiddler !  And 
a  merry  one!  (Faunch  begins  to  play.)  Let's  see  you 
foot  it!  (The  folk  of  Merrymount  begin  to  dance.) 
Oh,  bravely,  bravely!  If  the  Puritans  could  see  you 
you'd  be  led  to  the  stocks  and  the  whipping-post! 

Lackleather 

(darkly). 

'Twill  take  less  than  a  dance  to  lead  us  there!  You 
know  right  well  that  the  Puritans  have  sworn  that  if 
they  catch  us  straying  beyond  the  bounds  of  Merry- 
mount  'twill  be  the  stocks  and  the  whipping-post,  and 
that  without  mercy! 


MERRYMOUNT  201 

Scarlett 

(with  a  laugh  and  a  shrug). 

The  stocks  and  the  whipping-post !  Come,  drive  such 
thoughts  from  your  head !  Look !  Yonder  comes  Jock 
with  a  tankard  of  apple  juice!  Cups  for  us  all! 
Quick,  Lackleather!  (Carved  wooden  cups  are  taken 
from  the  trunk  of  a  hollow  tree.)  Come,  where  are 
we  all? 

Tib. 

All  here,  save  Sarah  Scarlett,  who  bides  with  Goody 
Gleason,  and  Bess,  who  hath  been  away  since  dawn. 
Robin  and  Kit  have  gone  to  search  for  her. 

Scarlett. 

Well,  Bess  or  no  Bess,  the  maypole  is  waiting!  Play 
us  another  catch,  goodf ellow  Faunch !     My  heels  grow 

[All  start  to  dance. 

Robin 

(bursting  in  from  right,  followed  by  Kit  Carmel). 

Simon!     Simon!     You'll  not  dance  so  gaily  when 

you've  heard  the  news!     Put  up  your  music,  Faunch! 

Give  over  your  capers,  Lackleather!     Bess  hath  been 

taken  by  the  Puritans!  rri  7 

[General  consternation. 

Scarlett 
(as  all  stop  dancing). 
You're  jesting,  lad ! 


202       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

Robin 

(as  he  catches  breath). 

'Tis  no  jest,  Simon!  'Tis  bitter  truth.  'Tis  to- 
wards the  stocks  they  are  leading  her! 

Scarlett 
(outraged). 
You  let  them  capture  her? 

Kit. 
What  were  we  two  against  so  many! 

Scarlett 
(passionately). 

All  Merrymount  to  the  rescue!  Zounds!  Shall  a 
pack  o'  Puritans  match  their  wits  against  ours?  Who 
follows  me? 

All. 

All  of  us!    All! 

Lackleather. 
There'll  be  a  rescue! 

Faunch 

(as  he  follows,  fiddling  gaily). 
A  rescue  made  to  music! 

[All  disappear  into  the  woods,  right,  just  as 
Sarah  Scarlett,  with  Goody  Gleason  leaning 
on  her  arm,  comes  out  of  the  woods,  left. 


MERRYMOUNT  203 

Sarah. 

Faunch!  Faunch!  (Looks  after  the  vanishing 
Merry mount  folk.)  He  does  not  hear  me!  Where 
are  they  going  that  they  do  not  hear  me?  Nay,  then, 
dear  Gran'am,  rest  on  me.  Step  slowly.  They've  left 
off  dancing  at  the  maypole,  and  gone  I  know  not 
whither.  Will  you  not  rest  you,  while  I  blow  this 
nicker  o'  fire?  (Leads  Goody  Gleason  to  bed  of  pine.) 
I'll  make  thee  broth,  and  season  it  right  pleasantly 
when  the  lads  come  back  from  their  traps;  for,  now 
that  I  think  on  it,  it  may  be  to  their  traps  they  have 
gone.  (Sees  Goody  Gleason  placed  in  comfortable 
fashion  on  the  bed  of  pine.)  Rest,  then,  if  you  can, 
dear  Gran'am.  'Twill  strengthen  you  against  your 
chills  and  fever.  (Seats  herself  at  fire.)  Rest,  if  you 
can,  and  I  will  watch  close  by. 

[Goody  Gleason  dozes  off:  Sarah  sits  by  her 
and  sings. 

"  Fortune,  my  foe,  why  dost  thou  frown  on  me, 
And  will  thy  favors  never  better  be  ? 
Wilt  thou,  I  say,  forever  breed  me  pain? 
And  wilt  thou  not  restore  my  joys  again?  " 

[A  pause:  then  from  distance  comes  tumult  of 
voices:  "Ho!  Steady  there,  Will  Lack- 
leather!  Have  a  care,  Robin  Wakeless!  " 
(The  voices  are  very  faint  but  clear:  the 

smind  of  thm  fymm  fr9tn  #  fang  4ktmwi) 


204       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

Bess 

(running  ahead  of  the  others,  disheveled,  breathless, 
excited,  enters,  and  swinging  about,  halloos  to  those 
who  are  following  her,  her  hands  held  clarion-wise). 

Have  a  care,  Simon!    Look  well  to  the  Puritan! 

Sarah 
(running  to  her). 
Bess!     What's  here!     What's  happened? 

Bess 

(still  greatly  excited). 

I'll  tell  thee  when  I  catch  my  breath!  I've  been  in 
the  stocks  with  the  whole  of  Wollaston  to  gape  at  me. 
Puritan  heads  a-wagging!  Puritan  eyes  a-staring! 
And  after  the  stocks  'twas  towards  the  whipping-post 
that  they  were  leading  me!  But  I've  learned  a  trick 
or  two  from  our  lanes  here  at  Merrymount.  I  gave  a 
sudden  twist — the  constable  loosened  his  hold — I  ran 
and  ran!  There  was  not  one  could  catch  me.  And 
for  the  shaming  they've  done  me  they  are  to  pay  full 
dear.     I  ran  ahead  to  tell  you.     Listen! 

Voices 
(coming  nearer). 
Easy  there,  Kit!     Have  a  care,  Robin! 

Sarah. 
Heaven's  mercy,  Bess,  what  is  it  they're  bringing? 


MERRYMOUNT  205 

Bess 

(with  a  blaze  of  excitement  and  triumph). 
Can  you  not  see?     Our  lads  have  stolen  Resolute 
Endicott,  spinning-wheel  and  all. 

[It  is  soon  seen  that  Bess  speaks  truly.  Mis- 
tress Endicott  makes  her  entrance  seated  on  a 
pine  board  that  is  carried  between  Robin 
Wakeless  and  Kit  Carmel.  She  is  closely 
guarded  by  Jock,  who  marches  behind. 
Scarlett  and  Will  Lackleather  carry  her  spin- 
ning-wheel. Faunch  brings  up  the  rear,  with 
the  Merrymount  maidens  following.  Joan 
carries  a  spinning-stool. 

Scarlett 

(as  he  and  Lackleather  set  down  spinning-wheel,  left). 

Look  to  your  steps,  Robin!  Steady  there,  Kit 
Carmel !  '  (As  Resolute  stands,  center,  he  approaches 
her  with  elaborate  mocking  courtesy.)  Mistress,  we 
bid  you  welcome  to  Merrymount! 

Robin. 

What  will  you  have,  Mistress  Endicott?  A  merry 
stave,  a  cup  of  cherry  wine,  or  a  maypole  dance  ?  Speak, 
and  we  do  your  pleasure! 

Scarlett 

(to  Sarah). 

Rouse  our  gran'am,  sister.  Sure,  such  a  sight  as  this 
will  warm  her  bones!    (To  Resolute,  indicating  Bess.) 


2o6       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

See!  There  is  one  of  our  number  who  hath  been 
royally  entertained  by  your  townsfolk.  We  are  minded 
to  do  the  same  by  you !  (To  the  others.)  Come,  we'll 
spread  a  feast  for  Mistress  Endicott.  Empty  your 
traps,  Robin!  Bring  on  your  game,  Will  Lackleather! 
We'll  show  how  Merrymount  can  sup  when  it  has  a 
mind! 

Joan 

(aside:  outraged). 

What!    Waste  our  substance  on  a  Puritan? 

Kit  Carmel. 

Why,  lass,  do  you  not  catch  Simon's  meaning?  'Tis 
a  rare  jest  to  make  a  Puritan  dance,  whether  she  will 
or  no.  Can  you  not  see  she  would  rather  go  straight  to 
perdition  than  vouch  us  a  word  or  a  glance?  'Twas 
a  shrewd  trick  of  Simon's  to  seize  her  as  she  sat  in  her 
dooryard.  We'll  have  more  mirth  to-day  than  hath 
been  here  a  twelvemonth. 

Scarlett. 

Come!  Come!  We  must  prepare  to  feast!  (To 
Resolute.)  Think  not  to  stir  from  here,  Mistress. 
Puritan  feet  can  never  outrun  the  heels  of  Merrymount! 
Come,  lads,  let's  start,  or  the  feast  will  not  be  ready. 
Who  goes  with  us? 

All, 
II    II    And  I! 


MERRYMOUNT  207 

Sarah. 
I'll  bide  with  my  gran'am. 

[Exeunt  all  the  others,  save  Resolute,  Sarah, 
and  Goody  Gleason.  There  is  a  pause  of  a 
moment  or  so.  Sarah,  seated  on  the  ground 
by  Goody  Gleason,  looks  curiously  at  Reso- 
lute.    Resolute  stares  straight  in  front  of  her. 

Sarah 

(rising,  and  bringing  Resolute  her  spinning- stool). 

Best  to  be  seated,  Mistress.  You'll  be  a  long  time 
standing.  What!  Not  even  a  word  of  thanks  from  a 
model  of  worshipful  manners?  It  must  be  a  sad  thing 
not  to  be  able  to  use  one's  tongue,  Mistress  Resolute. 
Indeed,  I  pity  you! 

Resolute. 

Such  words  as  I  could  speak  would  fall  full  strangely 
on  Merrymount  ears. 

Sarah. 

I  doubt  it  not.  We  are  not  given  to  canting  here  at 
Merrymount. 

Resolute. 

I  might  give  you  such  answer  as  those  words  de- 
serve, did  I  not  know  that  they  are  the  words,  of  one 

who  lives  in  m  and  ignorant 


208       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

Sarah 

(crossing  rapidly  to  left,  her  hands  clenched,  amaze- 
ment and  wrath  in  her  voice). 

Sin  and  ig Zounds!    A  plague  take  you! 

Resolute 
(turning:  her  fingers  in  her  ears). 
Oh!     Oh!     Now  you  are  swearing! 

Sarah. 

You  little  weazened,  mincing,  purse-mouthed  Puri- 
tan! 

Resolute 
(her  fingers  still  in  her  ears). 
I  do  not  hear  a  word  that  you  are  saying. 

Sarah 
(starting  to  pull  Resolute 's  fingers  from  her  ears). 
I'll  make  you  hear,  I  warrant! 

Goody  Gleason 
(moaning). 
Alack!    Alack!    Will  the  posset  never  be  done? 

Sarah 

(instantly  remorseful). 

Gran'am!     Your  posset!     To  think  I  could  forget 

you!     (Runs  to  fire.)    And  yet — and  yet (Looks 

in  kettle.)     Alas !    Alas !    I  am  not  skilled  in  brewing. 


MERRYMOUNT  209 

Resolute 
(half  against  her  will). 
There's  cure  for  ague  in  our  forest  herbs. 

Sarah. 
Oh,  had  I  but  your  knowledge — !  (With  an  effort 
towards  healing  the  breach.)  If  you'll  take  back  your 
words  about  sin  and  ignorance,  never  again  will  I  call 
you  a  mincing  white-faced  moppet — even  if  you  are 
one. 

Resolute 

(provokingly  prim). 
I  may  not  take  back  words  that  I  have  spoken. 

Sarah. 

Then    you   are   a   prim-mouthed,    white- faced   jade, 
even  as  I  have  said. 

Resolute. 

And  that  you  dwell  in  sin  and  ignorance  becomes 
more  and  more  certain. 

[They  face  each  other  as  if  with  crossed  swords, 
left. 

Goody  Gleason 

(sighing). 
Is  the  posset  done? 

Sarah 
(despairing). 
I  cannot  tell  whether  it  be  done  or  no. 


2io       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

Resolute 

(with   her  back   turned). 

If  the  brew  be  clear,  then  the  posset  is  not  yet  done ; 

but  if  a  little  wax  float  on  the  top (Sees  Sarah's 

perplexity,  and  comes  to  fire  with  the  air  of  one  be- 
stowing  wisdom.)  All  maids  should  know  how  to 
make  healing  potions.  I  marvel  that  you've  learned  no 
hearthstone  arts. 

Sarah 

(as  Resolute  seats  herself  at  fire). 

Mayhap,  if  I  had  a  hearth  I  could  compass  such 
knowledge,  Mistress.  But  we  be  forest  folk  with  no 
roof  but  the  stars. 

Resolute. 

You  chose 

Sarah 

(busying  herself  with  pouring  the  posset  into  cup  and 
giving  it  to  Goody  G  leas  on). 

Aye,  Mistress,  I  know  well  what  you  would  say. 
We  chose  to  live  the  life  of  Merrymount.  We  brooked 
no  Puritan  rule:  therefore  on  our  heads  be  it!  We 
suffer  for  the  love  of  freedom.  (Keenly.)  Do  you 
not  suffer,  too,  for  the  same  cause?  It  was  for  freedom 
you  and  yours  left  England.  It  was  for  freedom  we 
and  ours  left  Wollaston.  You  could  not  brook  re- 
straint: no  more  could  we. 


Resolute, 
But  your  riydj— yQttf  pongs  awl  ^lancing' 


MERRYMOUNT  211 

Sarah. 

We  meet  misfortune  with  a  laugh  instead  of  with  a 
groan:  where  is  the  harm  in  that? 

Resolute 
(with  dawning  friendliness). 
Indeed  you  give  me  much  to  ponder  on. 

Sarah 

(with  a  burst  of  candor). 

Since  I've  known  you  I  do  not  think  so  hard  on 
Puritans.  (Half -wistfully.)  I  wish — I  wish  I  had 
your  arts  and  knew  wise  household  ways.  I  fear  we 
be  but  addle-pates  at  Merrymount.  I  cannot  brew  a 
medicine,  nor  spin,  nor 

Resolute 

(rising). 

Come,  I  will  teach  you!  (They  go  to  spinning- 
wheel.)  Aye,  sit  you  so,  and  mind  you  do  not  break 
the  thread.     So!     So! 

[While  the  spinning  lesson  is  going  on,  Scar- 
lett and  his  followers  enter  from  left  back- 
ground, carrying  fish,  game,  and  wild  fruits, 
Scarlett  in  advance  of  the  others.  For  a 
moment  he  stands  transfixed  by  what  he  sees. 
Then  tiptoes  back,  beckons  to  others,  and 
points  out  the  picture.  Pantomime  of  sur- 
prise and  stifled  mirth. 


212       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

Scarlett 
(mockingly). 

Look!  Look!  Our  Sarah  hath  turned  Puritan! 
While  as  for  Mistress  Endicott — !  Come,  Faunch,  a 
tune,  lad,  a  tune!  A  wreath  for  our  worthy  guest! 
(Approaching  Resolute.)  Mistress,  'tis  time  you 
learned  to  trip  it  about  the  maypole.  I  claim  your 
hand  for  a  measure 

Sarah 

(suddenly   returning  from   seeing  to   the  preparations 
for  feasting  which  are  going  on  in  background). 

You  shall  do  no  such  folly.  Mistress  Resolute  shall 
not  dance  if  she  holds  that  dancing  is  a  sin.  Take  that 
in  your  teeth,  Simon  Scarlett! 

Scarlett. 

Are  you  bewitched?  Hath  the  Puritan  turned  your 
head? 

Sarah. 

My  wits,  good  Simon,  are  as  clear  as  thine.  'Tis  true 
that  the  constables  put  our  Bess  in  the  stocks ;  but  'twas 
none  of  Resolute's  doing!  And  when  you  stole  her 
hence  that  debt  was  paid.  Moreover,  of  her  own  free 
will  she  has  made  a  healing  brew  for  our  gran'am,  and 
for  that  I  stand  her  friend. 

Robin  Wakeless 
(drawing  near  and  hearing  the  controversy). 
Is  there  no  mirth  left  in  you,  Sarah  Scarlett,  that 


MERRYMOUNT  213 

you  cannot  see  the  jest  of  making  a  sniveling  Puritan 
to 

Sarah 

(promptly  and  blazingly). 

Cease  your  talk,  Robin  Wakeless!  And  when  you 
speak  of  sniveling  Puritans,  speak  of  them  that  do 
snivel.  For  though  you  brought  Mistress  Endicott  here 
in  a  rough  and  unseemly  fashion,  she  has  not  once 
winced,  no,  nor  plead  for  mercy.  You  are  quick  to  laud 
a  brave  front  in  yourselves:  are  you  less  quick  to  laud 
it  in  your  neighbors? 

Scarlett 

(as  some  of  the  other  Merrymount  folk  gather  about 

the  scene). 

'Tis  true  what  Sarah  says.  The  maid  is  not  given 
to  whining.  (To  Resolute,  with  an  entire  change  of 
manner.)  Well,  then,  Mistress,  though  our  feast  go 
forward,  you  shall  not  sup  with  us  unless  it  pleases  you. 
Say  but  the  word,  and  we  will  take  you  back  to  Wol- 
laston,  you  and  your  means  of  industry! 

Sarah 
(eagerly). 
Will  you  not  sup  with  us  first? 

Resolute. 
I  thank  you,  Sarah  Scarlett. 


2H       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

Sarah 

(delightedly). 
Come,  then! 

Faunch 

(singing,  as  he  puts  his  fiddle  under  his  chin,  while 
Scarlett  tosses  a  wreath  in  the  air). 

"  Fortune,  my  foe,  why  dost  thou  frown  on  me, 
And  will  thy  favors " 

Tib 

(rushing  wildly  in  from  right). 

Hush  your  music,  Faunch !  Down  with  your  trum- 
pery, Simon!  The  Puritans  are  upon  us — Pritchard 
and  Norcross  and  Warren  and  Hilton — all  a-marching 
up  the  hill !  Armed  to  the  teeth  they  are,  Simon,  and 
there's  not  an  ounce  of  shot  amongst  us! 

Scarlett 
(as  Puritans  begin  to  appear,  right). 
Zounds!     They're  upon  us! 

Gillian  Pritchard 

(as    he   and   his   followers   come   forward   from    right 

background). 

Make  no  resistance,  ye  scum  of  Dagon's  brood,  or 
Merrymount  and  all  that  is  within  it  shall  be  sacked 
within  the  hour!     Where  is  the  maid  ye  stole? 


MERRYMOUNT  215 

Resolute 

(clearly) . 

Here,  Gillian  Pritchard!  Here,  safe  and  sound,  and 
courteously  treated  by  the  folk  of  Merrymount.  Why 
use  ye  such  words  as  stole  ?  'Tis  most  unseemly.  And 
why  come  ye  here  unbidden?    Sure,  none  sent  for  you? 

Gillian  Pritchard 

(amazed:  disapproving). 

Resolute ! 

Resolute 

(haughtily). 

Mistress  Endicott,  so  please  you,  and  the  governor's 

Gillian  Pritchard 

(more  and  more  pained). 

Resolute ! 

Resolute 

(continuing  quickly). 

May  I  not  step  from  my  door  to  do  a  deed  of  kindness 
for  an  old  woman  but  what  the  whole  of  Wollaston  is 
at  my  heels?  Or  give  a  lesson  in  spinning  without 
a  cry  being  raised  that  I  am  stolen?  I  do  not  take  it 
kindly  of  you,  Amos  Warren ;  no,  nor  of  you,  Ebenezer 
Matthews.  Pick  up  my  spinning-wheel,  Frugal  Hilton, 
and  let  Fight-for-Right  Norcross  carry  my  chair.  (To 
Sarah.)  There  are  herbs  in  that  pocket  for  your 
gran'am.  [Gives  her  herb  pocket. 

[The    Puritans,    including    Resolute    Endicott, 
exeunt  right. 


2i6      THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

Scarlett 

(breaking  forth). 

She  saved  us!  Saved  us!  Zounds!  Was  there  ever 
anything  like  unto  it!  What  dost  thou  make  of  it, 
Sarah  ? 

Sarah. 

I  make  of  it  that  Mistress  Endicott  hath  a  warm 
heart  beneath  her  cold  white  Puritan  kerchief,  and  that 
in  this  new  land  of  ours  we  should  better  strive  to 
understand  each  other;  for,  though  our  ways  be  differ- 
ent, are  we  not  beset  by  the  same  hopes  and  fears,  doth 
not  the  same  sky  arch  above  us  all?  (To  Simon.) 
Think  you  not  so,  my  brother?  (As  all  begin  to  go 
towards  background  where  the  feast  is  in  readiness.) 
Come,  gran'am,  lean  on  me.  Our  feast  must  be  near 
to  readiness.  A  Puritan  hearthstone — sooth,  it  must  be 
a  goodly  place;  yet  right  glad  am  I  that  we  live  be- 
neath the  stars,  and  are  still  the  light  free-hearted 
folk  o'  Merrymount ! 

COSTUMES 

The  costumes  are  those  of  the  seventeenth-century 
cavaliers  for  the  Merrymount  lads.  Slashed  jerkins, 
full  sleeves  with  puffs  and  slashings,  or  bishop's  sleeves 
of  white  lawn  showing  through  tattered  velvet  over- 
sleeves. Their  cloaks  are  sometimes  topped  with  white 
lace  collars.  They  wear  either  stockings  and  low  slip- 
pers with  buckles,  or  high  cavalier  boots.  Their  hair 
is  worn   in  lovelocks.     See  the  illustrated   edition  of 


MERRYMOUNT  217' 

"  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  or  any  good  cavalier  pictures. 
If  the  velvets  and  satins  cannot  be  had,  use  cambric  in 
gay  colors  with  the  glazed  side  out,  which  gives  the 
effect  of  satin. 

Simon  Scarlett.  Scarlet  suit.  Scarlet  cloak  with 
white  lace  collar.  Scarlet  shoes  and  stockings.  His 
costume  is  the  high  note  of  color  in  the  play. 

Will  Lackleather.  Dark-brown  cloak.  High 
brown  boots.  Brown  jerkin,  through  which  show 
sleeves  of  white  lawn.    The  jerkin  is  of  leather. 

Robin  Wakeless.  Suit  of  blue  satin.  Gray  cloak. 
Gray    foot-gear. 

Christopher  Carmel.  Dark-blue  velvet  slashed 
with  orange. 

Jock.  Very  dark-purple  cloak,  with  touches  of 
tarnished  gold.     Leather  jerkin,  pieced  out  with  fur. 

Faunch  the  Fiddler.  Costume  of  pale-blue  satin 
and  black  velvet.    A  black  velvet  cloak. 

All  the  Merrymount  maidens  wear  fine  raiment  that 
is  equally  tattered  and  weather-worn.  They  have 
peasant  bodices — that  is,  a  very  deep  girdle  the  color 
of  their  skirts,  worn  with  white  square-necked  waists 
that  have  soft  semi-full  sleeves;  or  they  wear  bodices 
of  one  piece  made  very  plainly.  Cambric  in  gay  colors 
will  do. 

Sarah  Scarlett.  Forest-green  dress,  ankle-length. 
White  bodice  showing  through  tattered  green  sleeves. 
Forest-green  cloak  patched  with  scarlet. 

Goody  Gleason.  Leaf-brown  cloak  and  dress, 
patched  a  little  with  black  and  gray. 


218       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

Moll.  Olive-green  dress,  white  bodice.  It  is 
pieced  out  with  bits  of  leather. 

Nan.     Maroon  dress,  patched  in  black. 

Tib.     Dull  blue  dress. 

Joan.  Dark  dull-green  and  red  flowered  dress,  giv- 
ing the  appearance  of  tattered  brocade. 

Bess.     Gray  dress. 

The  maypole  dancers  are  in  dull-green,  dull-violet, 
and  dull-blue,  bronze,  and  slate-gray.  Some  wear 
cloaks  and  some  do  not.  All  should  have  a  wild,  pic- 
turesque gipsyish  look. 

Resolute  Endicott.  Black  dress,  ankle-length. 
White  Puritan  cap,  cuffs,  and  kerchief.  (Black  cam- 
bric with  the  glazed  side  turned  in.)  The  Puritan 
men  wear  long  cloaks  coming  to  their  ankles:  deep, 
white  plain  collars,  plain  white  cuffs  on  black  sleeves. 
Black  hats.  "  Boxed  "  hair,  falling  below  the  ears. 
Low  black  shoes.  Black  stockings.  Black  knee- 
breeches,  somewhat  full. 

For  a  cast  composed  entirely  of  girls,  such  as  a 
girls'  camp  or  school,  this  play  can  be  given  with  gym- 
nasium suits  forming  part  of  the  costumes  for  both 
Merrymount  lads  and  Puritans.  The  girls  can  wear 
the  bloomers  of  their  gymnasium  suits  fastened  with 
a  ribbon-garter,  so  as  to  make  the  puffed  seventeenth 
century  garb.  The  ribbon  should  be  gay  in  color  and 
fastened  either  with  a  rosette  or  a  bow.  White,  soft 
loose  waists,  with  rather  full  long  sleeves.  The  cloaks 
of  cambric  in  bright  colors  should  come  to  the  ankles, 


MERRYMOUNT  219 

the  glazed  side  worn  outward,  to  give  a  satiny  look. 
The  cloaks  for  the  Puritans  should  be  of  the  same 
length,  made  of  black  cambric,  with  the  glazed  side 
turned  in.  They  should  wear  black  cotton  waists,  and 
it  will  be  easy  and  simple  for  the  girls  to  fashion  the 
white  cuffs  and  collars  out  of  white  lawn  or  cheese- 
cloth. The  whole  play  can  thus  be  costumed  for  a 
very  small  sum.  If  a  further  touch  of  color  is  to  be 
added  to  the  costumes  of  the  Merrymount  lads,  their 
gay  cloaks  may  be  topped  with  white  lace  collars. 
Their  stockings  can  be  gay  in  color,  and  here  and 
there  a  slashed  jerkin  will  add  variety.  The  maidens 
of  Merrymount  can  wear  dresses  of  cambric,  made  on 
the  simplest  possible  lines.  The  color  scheme  of  the 
foregoing  costumes  should,  in  the  main,  be  adhered  to. 
The  ribbon-garters  and  stockings  may  match  in  color. 
Pale-blue,  orange,  purple,  jade,  corn-yellow,  and  hunt- 
er's green  will  prove  effective.  No  pink  or  old  rose 
should  be  worn,  as  scarlet  is  the  high  note  of  color  in 
the  play. 

Music:  Any  quaint  old-time  maypole  dance  will  do 
for  the  maypole  rout.  The  words  and  music  of  "  For- 
tune, My  Foe  "  can  be  found  in  Chappell's  "  Popular 
Music  of  Antiquity,"  Vol.  I,  page  62. 


PAGEANT  DIRECTIONS 

The  Hawthorne  Pageant  can  be  produced  either  in- 
doors or  out  of  doors.  For  the  outdoor  production 
there  should  be  a  level  sward  with  trees  right,  left, 
and  background.  It  is  suitable  for  any  of  the  Spring, 
Summer,  or  Autumn  months,  or  for  Hawthorne's 
birthday,  July  4. 

For  an  indoor  production  of  the  pageant  if  a  green 
woodland  set  cannot  be  had,  green  screens  with  pine 
branches  fastened  to  them,  a  green  or  brown  floor-cloth, 
and  forest-green  hanging  filling  in  the  background  may 
be  used.  Pine  trees  in  green  stands  around  which  green 
and  brown  burlap  is  banked  is  another  way  of  hav- 
ing an  inexpensive  and  realistic  scene  setting.  The 
setting  for  the  whole  pageant  is  the  same.  It  can  be 
given  in  an  assembly  hall,  gymnasium,  or  armory. 

The  costumes  for  the  episodes  have  already  been  in- 
dicated. The  pageant  may  be  given  by  a  cast  made  up 
entirely  of  girls,  if  it  is  so  wished. 

The  Muse  of  Hawthorne.  Pale-pink  cheese- 
cloth draperies.  A  tall  white  staff,  on  which  is 
fastened  a  cluster  of  pink  hawthorn  blossoms.  Flow- 
ing hair,  and  a  chaplet  of  laurel  leaves.  White  stock- 
ings and  sandals. 

220 


PAGEANT  DIRECTIONS  221 

The  Spirits  of  the  Old  Manse.  Greek  robes  in 
colored  cheesecloth  or  cotton  crepe.  There  are  eight 
of  these  maidens,  and  the  colors  they  wear  are  pale- 
green,  pale-lavender,  pale-yellow,  and  pale-blue.  They 
carry  great  garlands  of  moss  interwoven  with  pine — 
about  two  yards  for  each  player,  so  that  it  can  be  held 
gracefully.  White  stockings  and  sandals.  Hair  bound 
with  Greek  fillets  of  white  or  of  silver.  Symbolically 
these  spirits  represent  Joy,  Mystery,  Peace,  Dreams, 
Hope,  Aspiration,  Fulfilment,  Ecstasy. 

Music.  The  songs  of  the  episodes  are  already  indi- 
cated on  pages  194  and  203.  The  music  for  the  chorus 
of  the  Spirits  of  the  Old  Manse  can  be  found  in 
"  Songs  of  the  West,"  by  S.  Baring  Gould,  which  is 
a  collection  of  the  Folk  Songs  of  Devon  and  Cornwall, 
collected  from  the  mouths  of  the  people.  The  music  of 
this  chorus  is  set  to  the  seventeenth-century  folk  song 
called  "The  Sweet  Nightingale"  ("My  sweetheart, 
come  along,"  etc.).  The  incidental  music  for  the 
Hawthorne  Pageant  when  it  is  given  indoors  should  be 
from  Edward  MacDowell's  "  New  England  Idylls  " 
Op.  62,  and  from  his  "  Indian  Suite."  "  From  an 
Old  Garden,"  "  Midsummer,"  "  An  Indian  Idyll,"  and 
"  From  Puritan  Days "  can  be  played  between  the 
episodes  and  the  Dance  Interlude.  An  orchestra  or 
piano  can  add  to  the  music  of  Faunch's  fiddle  in  the 
Merrymount  scene.  The  music  for  the  procession 
should  be  very  stately,  and  by  a  seventeenth-century 
composer,  if  possible. 


222       THE  HAWTHORNE  PAGEANT 

Notes  on  Directing  the  Pageant.  The  first 
verse  of  the  chorus  of  the  Spirits  of  the  Old  Manse 
should  be  sung  off  stage  in  the  indoor  production.  The 
stage  should  be  darkened:  footlights  low.  With  the 
next  verse  the  spirits  enter,  four  from  right,  and  four 
from  left,  mystic,  half-seen  figures.  As  they  enter  the 
lights  gradually  begin  to  come  up,  until  with  the  middle 
of  the  second  verse  there  is  full  strong  daylight.  If 
the  eight  voices  are  not  enough  a  hidden  augmented 
chorus  can  be  behind  the  scenes.  If  the  stage  is  such 
that  it  can  be  darkened  and  lighted  at  will,  a  fire-glow 
effect  should  be  given  for  the  Merrymount  scene.  The 
light  for  all  the  scenes  should  be  that  of  strong  daylight. 
There  should  be  no  curtain.  The  characters  simply  ap- 
pear and  disappear.  After  the  Spirits  of  the  Manse 
have  made  their  exit  the  Prologue  enters.  The  pro- 
cession at  the  end  of  the  play  may  simply  cross  the  scene 
to  march  music,  the  players  not  stiffly  moving  in  ones 
and  twos,  but  in  more  or  less  significant  groups. 

Those  who  direct  the  pageant  should  see  to  it  that 
the  players  speak  the  dialogue  in  the  episodes  with  the 
utmost  briskness.  There  should  be  no  waits  and 
pauses.  Simon  Scarlett  especially  should  enunciate 
clearly  and  swiftly,  with  dash  and  fire  in  both  voice  and 
gesture.  Even  if  some  of  the  words  are  lost,  it  is  better 
to  keep  up  the  tempo  of  the  piece.  Philippe  Beau- 
cceur  should  also  speak  with  a  rush  of  energy  and  de- 
termination. The  players  who  are  on  the  scene  but 
not  speaking,  should  develop  their  pantomimic  powers, 


PAGEANT  DIRECTIONS  223 

and  form  animated  groups;  their  interest  should  be 
first  with  one  character  who  is  speaking,  and  then  with 
another.  They  should  never  stand  idle,  looking  blankly 
at  the  audience,  as  so  many  amateurs  are  in  the  habit 
of  doing.  In  the  Salem  episode  they  should  surge  for- 
ward and  back,  and  discuss  in  pantomimic  groups 
all  that  is  happening. 


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TWO  BOOKS  BY  CONSTANCE  D'ARCY  M ACKAY 
COSTUMES  AND  SCENERY  FOR  AMATEURS 

A  Practical  Working  Handbook  with  over  70  illustrations  and 
full  index.    258  pp.     izmo.    $1.75  net. 

A  book  that  has  long  been  needed.  It  concludes  chap- 
ters on  Amateurs  and  the  New  Stage  Art,  Costumes,  and 
Scenery,  but  consists  mainly  of  simple  outline  designs  for 
costumes  for  historical  plays,  particularly  American 
Pageants,  folk,  fairy,  and  romantic  plays — also  of  scenes, 
including  interiors,  exteriors,  and  a  scheme  for  a  Greek 
Theatre,  all  drawn  to  scale.  Throughout  the  book  color 
schemes,  economy,  and  simplicity  are  kept  constantly  in 
view,  and  ingenious  ways  are  given  to  adapt  the  same 
costumes  or  scenes  to  several  different  uses. 

HOW  TO  PRODUCE  CHILDREN'S  PLAYS 

The  author  is  a  recognized  authority  on  the  production 
of  plays  and  pageants  in  the  public  schools,  and  combines 
enthusiastic  sympathy  with  sound,  practical  instructions. 
She  tells  both  how  to  inspire  and  care  for  the  young  actor, 
how  to  make  costumes,  properties,  scenery,  where  to  find 
designs  for  them,  what  music  to  use,  etc.,  etc.  She  pre- 
faces it  all  with  an  interesting  historical  sketch  of  the 
plays-for-children  movement,  includes  elaborate  detailed 
analyses  of  performances  of  Browning's  Pied  Piper  and 
Rosetti's  Pageant  of  the  Months,  and  concludes  with 
numerous  valuable  analytical  lists  of  plays  for  various 
grades  and  occasions.    $1.25  net. 

New  York  Times  Review:  "It  will  be  useful  .  .  .  practical 
advice." 

Magazine  of  General  Federation  of  Women's  Clubs:  "There 
seems  to  be  nothing  she  has  forgotten  to  mention.  Every  club 
program  chairman  should  have  it." 


HENRY     HOLT     AND     COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


SHORT  PLAYS  ABOUT  FAMOUS  AUTHORS 

(Goldsmith,  Dickens,  Heine,  Fannie  Burney,  Shakespeare) 

By  Maude  Morrison  Frank.  $1.25  net. 

The  Mistake  at  the  Manor  shows  the  fifteen-year-old 
Goldsmith  in  the  midst  of  the  humorous  incident  in  his  life  which 
later  formed  the  basis  of  "She  Stoops  to  Conquer." 

A  Christmas  Eve  With  Charles  Dickens  reveals  the  author 
as  a  poor  factory  boy  in  a  lodging-house,  dreaming  of  an  old- 
time  family  Christmas. 

When  Heine  was  Twenty-one  dramatizes  the  early  disobe- 
dience of  the  author  in  writing  poetry  against  his  uncle's  orders. 

Miss  Burney  at  Court  deals  with  an  interesting  incident  in 
the  life  of  the  author  of  "Evelina"  when  she  was  at  the  Court 
of  George  III. 

The  Fairies'  Plea,  which  is  an  adaptation  of  Thomas  Hood's 
poem,  shows  Shakespeare  intervening  to  save  the  fairies  from 
the  scythe  of  Time. 

Designed  in  general  for  young  people  near  enough  to  the 
college  age  to  feel  an  interest  in  the  personal  and  human  as- 
pects of  literature,  but  the  last  two  could  easily  be  handled  by 
younger  actors.  They  can  successfully  be  given  by  groups  or 
societies  of  young  people  without  the  aid  of  a  professional  coach. 

LITTLE  PLAYS  FROM  AMERICAN  HISTORY 
FOR  YOUNG  FOLKS 

By  Alice  Johnstone  Walker.    $1.10  net. 

Hiding  the  Regicides,  a  number  of  brief  and  stirring  episodes, 
concerning  the  pursuit  of  Colonels  Whalley  and  Goff  by  the 
officers  of  Charles  II  at  New  Haven  in  old  colony  days. 

Mrs.  Murray's  Dinner  Party,  in  three  acts,  is  a  lively  comedy 
about  a  Patriot  hostess  and  British  Officers  in  Revolutionary 
Days. 

Scenes  from  Lincoln's  Time  ;  the  martyred  President  does  not 
himself  appear.  They  cover  Lincoln's  helping  a  little  girl  with 
her  trunk,  women  preparing  lint  for  the  wounded,  a  visit  to  the 
White  House  of  an  important  delegation  from  New  York,  and 
of  the  mother  of  a  soldier  boy  sentenced  to  death — and  the  com- 
ing of  the  army  of  liberation  to  the  darkies. 

Tho  big  events  are  touched  upon,  the  mounting  of  all  these 
little  plays  is  simplicity  itself,  and  they  have  stood  the  test  of 
frequent  school  performance. 

HENRY    HOLT      AND      COMPANY 
Publishers  New  York 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
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WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
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0&T  »4  r 


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f  CD    20  1936 


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C  12  19: 


LD  21-100m-7,'33 


YB  31866 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


G.  E.  Stechert  &  Co. 

Alfred  Hafner 

New  York 


